SB 


THE   AMBER   GODS 


AND    OTHER    STORIES 


BY 


HARRIET    ELIZABETH    PRESQOTT 


BOSTON 
TICKNOR     AND     FIELDS 

1863 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


R.    S.    S. 

I   CONSECRATE 

TO   YOU 
IN    WHOM     MY    FUTURE    LIES 

THESE    MEMORIALS 

OF   A   PAST   THAT   YOU    HAVE   SO    ENDEARED. 

H.    E.    P. 


c 


ONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  AMBER  GODS    .      '.        .        .        .        .  .        .        i 

IN  A  CELLAR        ......   ..'•  .  »          67 

KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS     .        .'-.•  "'„        ,;       ,  ,     .  .     119 

CIRCUMSTANCE   ,  .        .        .  .  -  . .    •  .        .        .  .         153 

DESERT  SANDS  .        .      •  .        .        .        .       »  .        .     173 

MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.        .        ..       ...       .  .         217 

THE  SOUTH  BREAKER      .        .....  .        .     367 


THE  AMBER  GODS. 


THE   AMBER    GODS. 

STORT   FIRST. 
FLOWER  o'  THE  PEACH. 

E  'VE  some  splendid  old  point-lace  in  our  fam 
ily,  yellow  and  fragrant,  loose-meshed.  It 
isn't  every  one  has  point  at  all ;  and  of  those 
who  have,  it  isn't  every  one  can  afford  to 
wear  it.  I  can.  Why  ?  O,  because  it 's  in  character. 
Besides,  I  admire  point  any  way,  —  it 's  so  becoming. 
And  then,  you  see,  this  amber !  Now  what  is  in  finer 
unison,  this  old  point-lace,  all  tags  and  tangle  and  fibrous 
and  bewildering,  and  this  amber,  to  which  Heaven  knows 
how  many  centuries,  maybe,  with  all  their  changes, 
brought  perpetual  particles  of  increase  ?  I  like  yellow 
things,  you  see. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning.  My  name,  you  're  aware, 
is  Giorgione  Willoughby.  Queer  name  for  a  girl !  Yes ; 
but  before  papa  sowed  his  wild-oats,  he  was  one  afternoon 
in  Fiesole,  looking  over  Florence  nestled  below,  when 
some  whim  took  him  to  go  into  a  church  there,  a  quiet 
place,  full  of  twilight  and  one  great  picture,  nobody 
within  but  a  girl  and  her  little  slave,  —  the  one  watching 
her  mistress,  the  other  saying  dreadfully  devout  prayers 
on  an  amber  rosary,  and  of  course  she  didn't  see  him,  or 


4  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

did  n't  appear  to.  After  he  got  there,  he  wondered  what 
on  earth  he  came  for,  it  was  so  dark  and  poky,  and  he 
began  to  feel  uncomfortably,  —  when  all  of  a  sudden  a 
great  ray  of  sunset  dashed  through  the  window,  and 
drowned  the  place  in  the  splendor  of  the  illumined  paint 
ing.  Papa  adores  rich  colors ;  and  he  might  have  been 
satiated  here,  except  that  such  things  make  you  want 
more.  It  was  a  Venus ;  —  no,  though,  it  could  n't  have 
been  a  Venus  in  a  church,  could  it  ?  Well,  then,  a  Mag 
dalen,  I  guess,  or  a  Madonna,  or  something.  I  fancy  the 
man  painted  for  himself,  and  christened  for  others.  So, 
when  I  was  born,  some  years  afterward,  papa,  gratefully 
remembering  this  dazzling  little  vignette  of  his  youth,  was 
absurd  enough  to  christen  me  Giorgione.  That 's  how  I 
came  by  my  identity  ;  but  the  folks  all  call  me  Tone,  —  a 
baby  name. 

I  'm  a  blonde,  you  know,  —  none  of  your  silver-washed 
things.  I  would  n't  give  ajico  for  a  girl  with  flaxen  hair ; 
she  might  as  well  be  a  wax  doll,  and  have  her  eyes  moved 
by  a  wire ;  besides,  they  've  no  souls.  I  imagine  they 
were  remnants  at  our  creation,  and  somehow  scrambled 
together,  and  managed  to  get  up  a  little  life  among  them 
selves;  but  it's  good  for  nothing,  and  everybody  sees 
through  the  pretence.  They're  glass  chips,  and  brittle 
shavings,  slender  pinkish  scrids,  —  no  name  for  them  ; 
but  just  you  say  blonde,  soft  and  slow  and  rolling,  —  it 
brings  up  a  brilliant,  golden  vitality,  all  manner  of  white 
and  torrid  magnificences,  and  you  see  me !  I  've  watched 
little  bugs  —  gold  rose-chafers  —  lie  steeping  in  the  sun, 
till  every  atom  of  them  must  have  been  searched  with  the 
warm  radiance,  and  have  felt  that,  when  they  reached 
that  point,  I  was  just  like  them,  golden  all  through,  —  not 
dyed,  but  created.  Sunbeams  like  to  follow  me,  I  think. 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  5 

Now,  when  I  stand  in  one  before  this  glass,  infiltrated 
with  the  rich  tinge,  don't  I  look  like  the  spirit  of  it  just 
stepped  out  for  inspection  ?  I  seem  to  myself  like  the 
complete  incarnation  of  light,  full,  bounteous,  overflowing, 
and  I  wonder  at  and  adore  anything  so  beautiful;  and 
the  reflection  grows  finer  and  deeper  while  I  gaze,  till  I 
dare  not  do  so  any  longer.  So,  without  more  words, 
I  'm  a  golden  blonde.  You  see  me  now :  not  too  tall,  — 
five  feet  four ;  not  slight,  or  I  could  n't  have  such  perfect 
roundings,  such  flexible  moulding.  Here 's  nothing  of  the 
spiny  Diana  and  Pallas,  but  Clytie  or  Isis  speaks  in  such 
delicious  curves.  It  don't  look  like  flesh  and  blood,  does 
it  ?  Can  you  possibly  imagine  it  will  ever  change  ?  Oh ! 
Now  see  the  face,  —  not  small,  either;  lips  with  no 
particular  outline,  but  melting,  and  seeming  as  if  they 
would  stain  yours,  should  you  touch  them.  No  matter 
about  the  rest,  except  the  eyes.  Do  you  meet  such  eyes 
often  ?  You  would  n't  open  yours  so,  if  you  did.  Note 
their  color  now,  before  the  ray  goes.  Yellow  hazel  ? 
Not  a  bit  of  it !  Some  folks  say  topaz,  but  they  're  fools. 
Nor  sherry.  There's  a  dark  sardine  base,  but  over  it 
real  seas  of  light,  clear  light ;  there  is  n't  any  positive 
color ;  and  once  when  I  was  angry,  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  them  in  a  mirror,  and  they  were  quite  white,  perfectly 
colorless,  only  luminous.  I  looked  like  a  fiend,  and,  you 
may  be  sure,  recovered  my  temper  directly,  —  easiest 
thing  in  the  world,  when  youVe  motive  enough.  You 
see  the  pupil  is  small,  and  that  gives  more  expansion  and 
force  to  the  irids ;  but  sometimes  in  an  evening,  when 
I  'm  too  gay,  and  a  true  damask  settles  in  the  cheek,  the 
pupil  grows  larger  and  crowds  out  the  light,  and  under 
these  thick  brown  lashes,  these  yellow-hazel  eyes  of 
yours,  they  are  dusky  and  purple  and  deep  with  flashes, 


6  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

like  pansies  lit  by  fire-flies,  and  then  common  folks  call 
them  black.  Be  sure,  I've  never  got  such  eyes  for 
nothing,  any  more  than  this  hair.  That  is  Lucrezia  Bor- 
gian,  spun  gold,  and  ought  to  take  the  world  in  its  toils. 
I  always  wear  these  thick,  riotous  curls  round  my  temples 
and  face;  but  the  great  braids  behind  —  O,  I'll  uncoil 
them,  before  my  toilet  is  over. 

Probably  you  felt  all  this  before,  but  did  n't  know  the 
secret  of  it.  Now,  the  traits  being  brought  out,  you  per 
ceive  nothing  wanting ;  the  thing  is  perfect,  and  you  've 
a  reason  for  it.  Of  course,  with  such  an  organization, 
I  'm  not  nervous.  Nervous  !  I  should  as  soon  fancy  a 
dish  of  cream  nervous.  I  am  too  rich  for  anything  of  the 
kind,  permeated  utterly  with  a  rare  golden  calm.  Girls 
always  suggest  little  similitudes  to  me :  there 's  that  bru 
nette  beauty,  —  don't  you  taste  mulled  wine  when  you  see 
her  ?  and  thinking  of  yourself,  did  you  ever  feel  green 
tea  ?  and  find  me  in  a  crust  of  wild  honey,  the  expressed 
essence  of  woods  and  flowers,  with  its  sweet  satiety  ?  — 
no,  that's  too  cloying.  I'm  a  deal  more  like  Mendels 
sohn's  music,  —  what  I  know  of  it,  for  I  can't  distinguish 
tunes,  —  you  wouldn't  suspect  it,  —  but  full  harmonies 
delight  me  as  they  do  a  wild  beast ;  and  so  I  'm  like  a 
certain  adagio  in  B  flat,  that  papa  likes. 

There,  now !  you  're  perfectly  shocked  to  hear  me  go 
on  so  about  myself;  but  you  oughtn't  to  be.  It  isn't 
lawful  for  any  one  else,  because  praise  is  intrusion ;  but 
if  the  rose  please  to  open  her  heart  to  the  moth,  what 
then?  You  know,  too,  I  didn't  make  myself;  it's  no 
virtue  to  be  so  fair.  Louise  could  n't  speak  so  of  herself: 
first  place,  because  it  would  n't  be  true ;  next  place,  she 
could  n't,  if  it  were  ;  and  lastly,  she  made  her  beauty  by 
growing  a  soul  in  her  eyes,  I  suppose,  —  what  you  call 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  7 

good.  I  'm  not  good,  of  course  ;  I  would  n't  give  a  fig  to 
be  good.  So  it 's  not  vanity.  It 's  on  a  far  grander  scale ; 
a  splendid  selfishness,  —  authorized,  too ;  and  papa  and 
mamma  brought  me  up  to  worship  beauty,  —  and  there 's 
the  fifth  commandment,  you  know. 

Dear  me !  you  think  I  'm  never  coming  to  the  point. 
"Well,  here's  this  rosary;  —  hand  me  the  perfume-case 
first,  please.  Don't  you  love  heavy  fragrances,  faint  with 
sweetness,  ravishing  juices  of  odor,  heliotropes,  violets, 
water-lilies,  —  powerful  attars  and  extracts  that  snatch 
your  soul  off  your  lips  ?  Could  n't  you  live  on  rich 
scents,  if  they  tried  to  starve  you  ?  I  could,  or  die  on 
them  :  I  don't  know  which  would  be  best.  There  ! 
there 's  the  amber  rosary !  You  need  n't  speak ;  look 
at  it! 

Bah!  is  that  all  youVe  got  to  say?  Why,  observe 
the  thing  ;  turn  it  over ;  hold  it  up  to  the  window  ;  count 
the  beads,  —  long,  oval,  like  some  seaweed  bulbs,  each  an 
amulet.  See  the  tint ;  it 's  very  old ;  like  clots  of  sun 
shine,  —  are  n't  they  ?  Now  bring  it  near ;  see  the  carv 
ing,  here  corrugated,  there  faceted,  now  sculptured  into 
hideous,  tiny,  heathen  gods.  You  didn't  notice  that 
before  !  How  difficult  it  must  have  been,  when  amber  is 
so  friable !  Here 's  one  with  a  chessboard  on  his  back, 
and  all  his  kings  and  queens  and  pawns  slung  round  him. 
Here 's  another  with  a  torch,  a  flaming  torch,  its  fire  pour 
ing  out  inverted.  They  are  grotesque  enough  ;  —  but 
this,  this  is  matchless :  such  a  miniature  woman,  one  hand 
grasping  the  round  rock  behind,  while  she  looks  down 
into  some  gulf,  perhaps,  beneath,  and  will  let  herself  fall. 
O,  you  should  see  her  with  a  magnifying-glass  !  You 
want  to  .think  of  calm,  satisfying  death,  a  mere  exhala 
tion,  a  voluntary  slipping  into  another  element  ?  There  it 


8  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

is  for  you.  They  are  all  gods  and  goddesses.  They  are 
all  here  but  one  ;  I  Ve  lost  one,  the  knot  of  all,  the  love 
of  the  thing.  Well !  was  n't  it  queer  for  a  Catholic  girl 
to  have  at  prayer  ?  Don't  you  wonder  where  she  got  it  ? 
Ah !  but  don't  you  wonder  where  I  got  it  ?  I  '11  tell  you. 

Papa  came  in,  one  day,  and  with  great  mystery  com 
menced  unrolling,  and  unrolling,  and  throwing  tissue  pa 
pers  on  the  floor,  and  scraps  of  colored  wool ;  and  Lu  and 
I  ran  to  him,  —  Lu  stooping  on  her  knees  to  look  up,  I 
bending  over  his  hands  to  look  down.  It  was  so  myste 
rious  !  I  began  to  suspect  it  was  diamonds  for  me,  but 
knew  I  never  could  wear  them,  and  was  dreadfully  afraid 
that  I  was  going  to  be  tempted,  when  slowly,  bead  by 
bead,  came  out  this  amber  necklace.  Lu  fairly  screamed ; 
as  for  me,  I  just  drew  breath  after  breath,  without  a  word. 
Of  course  they  were  for  me ;  —  I  reached  my  hands  for 
them. 

«  Oh,  wait ! "  said  papa.     "  Tone  or  Lu  ?  " 

"  Now  how  absurd,  papa !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Such  things 
for  Lu  ! " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Lu,  —  rather  faintly,  for  she  knew 
I  always  carried  my  point. 

"  The  idea  of  you  in  amber,  Lu !  It 's  too  foreign ;  no 
sympathy  between  you ! " 

"  Stop,  stop !  "  said  papa.  "  You  sha'n't  crowd  little  Lu 
out  of  them.  What  do  you  want  them  for,  Lu  ?  " 

"  To  wear,"  quavered  Lu,  —  "  like  the  balls  the  Roman 
ladies  carried  for  coolness." 

"  Well,  then,  you  ought  to  have  them.  What  do  you 
want  them  for,  Tone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  Lu  's  going  to  have  them,  I  don't  want  them." 

"  But  give  a  reason,  child." 

"  Why,  to  wear,  too,  —  to  look  at,  —  to  have  and  to 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  9 

hold,  for  better,  for  worse, —  to  say  my  prayers  on,"  for  a 
bright  idea  struck  me,  —  "  to  say  my  prayers  on,  like  the 
Florence  rosary."  I  knew  that  would  finish  the  thing. 

"  Like  the  Florence  rosary  ? "  said  papa,  in  a  sleepy 
voice.  "  Why,  this  is  the  Florence  rosary." 

Of  course,  when  we  knew  that,  we  were  both  more 
crazy  to  obtain  it. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  just  fluttered  Lu,  "  where  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  I  got  it ;  the  question  is,  Who  's  to  have  it  ?  " 

"I  must  and  will,  potential  and  imperative,"  I  ex 
claimed,  quite  on  fire.  "  The  nonsense  of  the  thing ! 
Girls  with  lucid  eyes,  like  shadowy  shallows  in  quick 
brooks,  can  wear  crystallizations.  As  for  me,  I  can  wear 
only  concretions  and  growths;,  emeralds  and  all  their 
cousins  would  be  shockingly  inharmonious  on  me ;  but 
you  know,  Lu,  how  I  use  Indian  spices,  and  scarlet  and 
white  berries,  and  flowers,  and  little  hearts  and  notions  of 
beautiful  copal  that  Rose  carved  for  you,  —  and  I  can 
wear  sandal-wood  and  ebony  and  pearls,  and  now  this 
amber.  But  you,  Lu,  you  can  wear  every  kind  of  pre 
cious  stone,  and  you  may  have  Aunt  Willoughby's  rubies 
that  she  promised  me ;  they  are  all  in  tone  with  you  ; 
but  I  must  have  this." 

"  I  don't  think  you  're  right,"  said  Louise,  rather  so 
berly.  "You  strip  yourself  of  great  advantages.  But 
about  the  rubies,  I  don't  want  anything  so  flaming,  so 
you  may  keep  them ;  and  I  don't  care  at  all  about  this. 
I  think,  sir,  on  the  whole,  they  belong  to  Yone  for  her 
name." 

"  So  they  do,"  said  papa.  "  But  not  to  be  bought  off! 
That 's  my  little  Luf" 

And  somehow  Lu,  who  had  been  holding  the  rosary, 
was  sitting  on  papa's  knee,  as  he  half  knelt  on  the  floor, 


10  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

and  the  rosary  was  in  my  hand.  And  then  he  produced 
a  little  kid  box,  and  there  lay,  inside,  a  star  with  a  thread 
of  gold  for  the  forehead,  circlets  for  wrist  and  throat,  two 
drops,  and  a  ring.  0  such  beauties  !  You  've  never  seen 
them. 

"  The  other  one  shall  have  these.  Are  n't  you  sorry, 
Tone  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh  no  indeed !  I  'd  much  rather  have  mine,  though 
these  are  splendid.  What  are  they  ?  " 

"  Aqua-marina,"  sighed  Lu,  in  an  agony  of  admiration. 

"  Dear,  dear !  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

Lu  blushed,  I  saw,  —  but  I  was  too  much  absorbed  with 
the  jewels  to  remark  it. 

"  Oh,  they  are  just  like  that  ring  on  your  hand  !  You 
don't  want  two  rings  alike,"  I  said.  "  Where  did  you  get 
that  ring,  Lu  ?  " 

But  Lu  had  no  senses  for  anything  beyond  the  casket. 

If  you  know  aqua-marina,  you  know  something  that's 
before  every  other  stone  in  the  world.  Why,  it  is  as  clear 
as  light,  white,  limpid,  dawn  light ;  sparkles  slightly  and 
seldom  ;  looks  like  pure  drops  of  water,  sea-water,  scooped 
up  and  falling  down  again  ;  just  a  thought  of  its  parent 
beryl-green  hovers  round  the  edges  ;  and  it  grows  more 
lucent  and  sweet  to  the  centre,  and  there  you  lose  your 
self  in  some  dream  of  vast  seas,  a  glory  of  unimagined 
oceans  ;  and  you  say  that  it  was  crystallized  to  any  slow 
flute-like  tune,  each  speck  of  it  floating  into  file  with  a 
musical  grace,  and  carrying  its  sound  with  it.  There ! 
it's  very  fanciful,  but  I'm  always  feeling  the  tune  in 
aqua-marina,  and  trying  to  find  it,  —  but  I  should  n't 
know  it  was  a  tune,  if  I  did,  I  suppose.  How  magnificent 
it  would  be,  if  every  atom  of  creation  sprang  up  and  said 
its  one  word  of  abracadabra,  the  secret  of  its  existence, 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  11 

and  fell  silent  again.  O  dear!  you'd  die,  you  know; 
but  what  a  pow-wow  !  Then,  too,  in  aqua-marina  proper, 
the  setting  is  kept  out  of  sight,  and  you  have  the  unal 
loyed  stone  with  its  sea-rims  and  its  clearness  and  steady 
sweetness.  It  was  n't  the  thing  for  Louise  to  wear ;  it 
belongs  rather  to  highly  nervous,  excitable  persons ;  and 
Lu  is  as  calm  as  I,  only  so  different !  There  is  some 
thing  more  pure  and  simple  about  it  than  about  anything 
else ;  others  may  flash  and  twinkle,  but  this  just  glows 
with  an  unvarying  power,  is  planetary  and  strong.  It 
wears  the  moods  of  the  sea,  too  :  once  in  a  while  a  warm 
amethystine  mist  suffuses  it  like  a  blush ;  sometimes  a 
white  morning  fog  breathes  over  it :  you  long  to  get  into 
the  heart  of  it.  That 's  the  charm  of  gems,  after  all ! 
You  feel  that  they  are  fashioned  through  dissimilar  pro 
cesses  from  yourself,  —  that  there 's  a  mystery  about  them, 
mastering  which  would  be  like  mastering  a  new  life,  like 
having  the  freedom  of  other  stars.  I  give  them  more 
personality  than  I  would  a  great  white  spirit.  1  like 
amber  that  way,  because  I  know  how  it  was  made,  drink 
ing  the  primeval  weather,  resinously  beading  each  grain 
of  its  rare  wood,  and  dripping  with  a  plash  to  filter 
through  and  around  the  fallen  cones  below.  In  some 
former  state  I  must  have  been  a  fly  embalmed  in  amber. 

"  O  Lu  ! "  I  said,  "  this  amber 's  just  the  thing  for  me, 
such  a  great  noon  creature  !  And  as  for  you,  you  shall 
wear  mamma's  Mechlin  and  that  aqua-marina ;  and  you  '11 
look  like  a  mer-queen  just  issuing  from  the  wine-dark 
deeps  and  glittering  with  shining  water-spheres." 

I  never  let  Lu  wear  the  point  at  all ;  she  'd  be  ridicu 
lous  in  it,  —  so  flimsy  and  open  and  unreserved ;  that's 
for  me  ;  Mechlin,  with  its  whiter,  closer,  chaster  web,  suits 
her  to  a  T. 


12  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

I  must  tell  you,  first,  how  this  rosary  came  about.  You 
know  we  've  a  million  of  ancestors,  and  one  of  them,  my 
great-grandfather,  was  a  sea-captain,  and  actually  did 
bring  home  cargoes  of  slaves  !  But  once  he  fetched  to  his 
wife  a  little  islander,  an  Asian  imp,  six  years  old,  and 
wilder  than  the  wind.  She  spoke  no  word  of  English, 
and  was  full  of  short  shouts  and  screeches,  like  a  thing 
of  the  woods.  My  great-grandmother  could  n't  do  a  bit 
with  her  ;  she  turned  the  house  topsy-turvy,  cut  the  noses 
out  of  the  old  portraits,  and  chewed  the  jewels  out  of  the 
settings,  killed  the  little  home  animals,  spoiled  the  din 
ners,  pranced  in  the  garden  with  Madam  Willoughby's 
farthingale,  and  royal  stiff  brocades  rustling  yards  behind, 

—  this  atom  of  a  shrimp,  —  or  balanced  herself  with  her 
heels  in  the  air  over  the  curb  of  the  well,  scraped  up  the 
dead  leaves  under  one  corner  of  the  house  and  fired  them, 

—  a  favorite  occupation,  —  and  if  you  left  her  stirring  a 
mess  in  the  kitchen,  you  met  her,  perhaps,  perched  in  the 
china-closet   and   mumbling   all   manner   of  demoniacal 
prayers,   twisting   and  writhing   and   screaming   over  a 
string  of  amber  gods  that  she  had  brought  with  her  and 
always  wore.     When  winter  came  and  the  first  snow,  she 
was  furious,  perfectly  mad.     One  might  as  well  have  had 
a  ball  of  fire  in  the  house,  or  chain-lightning ;  every  nice 
old  custom  had  been  invaded,  the  ancient  quiet  broken 
into  a  Bedlam  of  outlandish  sounds,  and  as  Captain  Wil- 
loughby  was  returning,  his  wife  packed  the  sprite  off  with 
him,  —  to  cut,  rip,  and  tear  in  New  Holland,  if  she  liked, 
but  not  in  New  England,  —  and  rejoiced  herself  that  she 
would  find  that  little  brown  skin  cuddled  up  in  her  best 
down  beds  and  among  her  lavendered  sheets  no  more. 
She  had  learned  but  two   words  all  that   time,  —  Wil- 
loughby,  and  the  name  of  the  town. 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  13 

You  may  conjecture  what  heavenly  peace  came  in 
when  the  Asian  went  out,  but  there  is  no  one  to  tell  what 
havoc  was  wrought  on  board  ship ;  in  fact,  if  there  could 
have  been  such  a  thing  as  a  witch,  I  should  believe  that 
imp  sunk  them,  for  a  stray  Levantine  brig  picked  her  — 
still  agile  as  a  monkey  —  from  a  wreck  off  the  Cape  de 
Verdes  and  carried  her  into  Leghorn,  where  she  took  — 
will  you  mind,  if  I  say  ?  —  leg-bail,  and  escaped  from 
durance.  What  happened  on  her  wanderings  I  'm  sure  is 
of  no  consequence,  till  one  night  she  turned  up  outside  a 
Fiesolan  villa,  scorched  with  malaria  fevers  and  shaken 
to  pieces  with  tertian  and  quartan  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
agues.  So,  after  having  shaken  almost  to  death,  she  de 
cided  upon  getting  well ;  all  the  effervescence  was  gone ; 
she  chose  to  remain  with  her  beads  in  that  family,  a  mys 
terious  tame  servant,  faithful,  jealous,  indefatigable.  But 
she  never  grew;  at  ninety  she  was  of  the  height  of  a 
yard-stick,  —  and  nothing  could  have  been  finer  than  to 
have  a  dwarf  in  those  old  palaces,  you  know. 

In  my  great-grandmother's  home,  however,  the  tradition 
of  the  Asian  sprite  with  her  string  of  amber  gods  was 
handed  down  like  a  legend,  and,  no  one  knowing  what 
had  been,  they  framed  many  a  wild  picture  of  the  Thing 
enchanting  all  her  spirits  from  their  beads  about  her,  and 
calling  and  singing  and  whistling  up  the  winds  with  them 
till  storm  rolled  round  the  ship,  and  fierce  fog  and  foam 
and  drowning  fell  upon  her  capturers.  But  they  all 
believed,  that,  snatched  from  the  wreck  into  islands  of 
Eastern  archipelagoes,  the  vindictive  child  and  her  quieted 
gods  might  yet  be  found.  Of  course  my  father  knew  this, 
and  when  that  night  in  the  church  he  saw  the  girl  saying 
such  devout  prayers  on  an  amber  rosary,  with  a  demure 
black  slave  so  tiny  and  so  old  behind  her,  it  flashed  back 


14  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

on  him,  and  he  would  have  spoken,  if,  just  then,  the  ray 
had  not  revealed  the  great  painting,  so  that  he  forgot  all 
about  it,  and  when  at  last  he  turned,  they  were  gone. 
But  my  father  had  come  back  to  America,  had  sat  down 
quietly  in  his  elder  brother's  house,  among  the  hills  where 
I  am  to  live,  and  was  thought  to  be  a  sedate  young  man 
and  a  good  match,  till  a  freak  took  him  that  he  must  go 
back  and  find  that  girl  in  Italy.  How  to  do  it,  with  no 
clew  but  an  amber  rosary  ?  But  do  it  he  did,  —  station 
ing  himself  against  a  pillar  in  that  identical  church  and 
watching  the  worshippers,  and  not  having  long  to  wait 
before  in  she  came,  with  little  Asian  behind.  Papa  is  n't 
in  the  least  romantic ;  he  is  one  of  those  great  fertilizing 
temperaments,  golden  hair  and  beard,  and  hazel  eyes,  if 
,you  will.  He 's  a  splendid  old  fellow  !  It 's  absurd  to 
delight  in  one's  father,  —  so  bread-and-buttery,  —  but  I 
can't  help  it.  He 's  far  stronger  than  I ;  none  of  the 
little  weak  Italian  traits  that  streak  me,  like  water  in 
thick,  sirupy  wine.  No,  —  he  isn't  in  the  least  roman 
tic,  but  he  says  he  was  fated  to  this  step,  and  could  no 
more  have  resisted  than  his  heart  could  have  refused  to 
beat.  When  he  spoke  to  the  devotee,  little  Asian  made 
sundry  belligerent  demonstrations  ;  but  he  confronted  her 
with  the  two  words  she  had  learned  here,  Willoughby 
and  the  town's  name.  The  dwarf  became  livid,  seemed 
always  after  haunted  by  a  dreadful  fear  of  him,  pursued 
him  with  a  rancorous  hate,  but  could  not  hinder  his  mar 
riage.  —  The  Willoughbys  are  a  cruel  race.  —  Her  only 
revenge  was  to  take  away  the  amber  beads,  which  had 
long  before  been  blessed  by  the  Pope  for  her  young  mis 
tress,  refusing  herself  to  accompany  my  mother,  and  de 
claring  that  neither  should  her  charms  ever  cross  the 
water,  —  that  all  their  blessing  would  be  changed  to 


THE  AMBER   GODS.  15 

banning,  and  that  bane  would  burn  the  bearer,  should  the 
salt-sea  spray  again  dash  round  them.  But  when,  in  pro 
cess  of  Nature,  the  Asian  died,  —  having  become  classic 
through  her  longevity,  taking  length  of  days  for  length  of 
stature,  —  then  the  rosary  belonged  to  mamma's  sister, 
who  by  and  by  sent  it,  with  a  parcel  of  other  things,  to 
papa  for  me.  So  I  should  have  had  it  at  all  events,  you 
see ;  —  papa  is  such  a  tease !  The  other  things  were 
mamma's  wedding-veil,  that  point  there,  which  once  was 
her  mother's,  and  some  pearls. 

I  was  born  upon  the  sea,  in  a  calm,  far  out  of  sight  of 
land,  under  sweltering  suns ;  so,  you  know,  I  'm  a  cosmop 
olite,  and  have  a  right  to  all  my  fantasies.  Not  that  they 
are  fantasies,  at  all ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  parts  of 
my  nature,  and  I  could  n't  be  what  I  am  without  them,  or 
have  one  and  not  have  all.  Some  girls  go  picking  and 
scraping  odds  and  ends  of  ideas  together,  and  by  the  time 
they  are  thirty  get  quite  a  bundle  of  whims  and  crotchets 
on  their  backs  ;  but  they  are  all  at  sixes  and  sevens,  un 
even  and  knotty  like  fagots,  and  won't  lie  compactly,  don't 
belong  to  them,  and  anybody  might  surprise  them  out  of 
them.  But  for  me,  you  see,  mine  are  harmonious  ;  in  my 
veins;  I  was  born  with  them.  Not  that  I  was  always 
what  I  am  now.  Oh,  bless  your  heart !  plums  and  nectar 
ines  and  luscious  things  that  ripen  and  develop  all  their 
rare  juices,  were  green  once,  and  so  was  I.  Awkward, 
tumble-about,  near-sighted,  till  I  was  twenty,  a  real  raw- 
head-and-bloody-bones  to  all  society ;  then  mamma,  who 
was  never  well  in  our  diving-bell  atmosphere,  was  or 
dered  to  the  West  Indies,  and  papa  said  it  was  what  I 
needed,  and  I  went,  too,  — and  oh,  how  sea-sick !  Were 
you  ever  ?  You  forget  all  about  who  you  are,  and  have  a 
vague  notion  of  being  Universal  Disease.  I  have  heard 


16  THE  AMBEE  GODS. 

of  a  kind  of  myopy  that  is  biliousness,  and  when  I  reached 
the  islands  my  sight  was  as  clear  as  my  skin  ;  all  that  trop 
ical  luxuriance  snatched  me  to  itself  at  once,  recognized 
me  for  kith  and  kin  ;  and  mamma  died,  and  I  lived.  We 
had  accidents  between  wind  and  water,  enough  to  have 
made  me  considerate  for  others,  Lu  said ;  but  I  don't  see 
that  I'm  any  less  careful  not  to  have  my  bones  spilt  in 
the  flood  than  ever  I  was.  Slang  ?  No,  —  poetry.  But 
if  your  nature  had  such  a  wild,  free  tendency  as  mine,  and 
then  were  boxed  up  with  proprieties  and  civilities  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end,  maybe  you,  too,  would  escape 
now  and  then  in  a  bit  of  slang. 

We  always  had  a  little  boy  to  play  with.  Lu  and  I,  or 
rather  Lu,  —  because,  though  he  never  took  any  dislike 
to  me,  he  was  absurdly  indifferent,  while  he  followed  Lu 
about  with  a  painful  devotion.  I  did  n't  care,  did  n't  know ; 
and  as  I  grew  up  and  grew  awkwarder,  I  was  the  plague 
of  their  little  lives.  If  Lu  had  been  my  sister  instead  of 
my  orphan  cousin,  as  mamma  was  perpetually  holding  up 
to  me,  I  should  have  bothered  them  twenty  times  more ; 
but  when  I  got  larger  and  began  to  be  really  distasteful 
to  his  fine  artistic  perception,  mamma  had  the  sense  to 
keep  me  out  of  his  way  ;  and  he  was  busy  at  his  lessons, 
and  did  n't  come  so  much.  But  Lu  just  fitted  him  then, 
from  the  time  he  daubed  little  adoring  blotches  of  her  face 
on  every  barn-door  and  paling,  till  when  his  scrap-book 
was  full  of  her  in  all  fancies  and  conceits,  and  he  was  old 
enough  to  go  away  and  study  Art.  Then  he  came  home 
occasionally,  and  always  saw  us ;  but  I  generally  contrived, 
on  such  occasions,  to  do  some  frightful  thing  that  shocked 
every  nerve  he  had,  and  he  avoided  me  instinctively,  as  he 
would  an  electric  torpedo ;  but  —  do  you  believe  ?  —  I 
never  had  an  idea  of  such  a  fact  till,  when  sailing  from 


THE  AMBER   GODS.  17 

the  South,  so  changed,  I  remembered  things,  and  felt  in 
tuitively  how  it  must  have  been.  Shortly  after  I  went 
away,  he  visited  Europe.  I  had  been  at  home  a  year, 
and  now  we  heard  he  had  returned ;  so  for  two  years  he 
had  n't  seen  me.  He  had  written  a  great  deal  to  Lu,  — 
brotherly  letters  they  were,  —  he  is  so  peculiar,  —  deter 
mining  not  to  give  her  the  least  intimation  of  what  he 
felt,  if  he  did  feel  anything,  till  he  was  able  to  say  all. 
And  now  he  had  earned  for  himself  a  certain  fame,  a 
promise  of  greater;  his  works  sold;  and  if  he  pleased,  he 
could  marry.  I  merely  presume  this  might  have  been 
his  thought ;  he  never  told  me.  A  certain  fame !  But 
that 's  nothing  to  what  he  will  have.  How  can  he  paint 
gray,  faint,  half-alive  things  now  ?  He  must  abound  in 
color,  —  be  rich,  exhaustless:  wild  sea-sketches,  —  sun 
rise, —  sunset,  —  mountain  mists  rolling  in  turbid  crimson 
masses,  breaking  in  a  milky  spray  of  vapor  round  lofty 
peaks,  and  letting  out  lonely  glimpses  of  a  melancholy 
moon,  —  South  American  splendors,  —  pomps  of  fruit  and 
blossom,  —  all  this  affluence  of  his  future  life  must  flash 
from  his  pencils  now.  Not  that  he  will  paint  again  di 
rectly.  Do  you  suppose  it  possible  that  I  should  be  given 
him  merely  for  a  phase  of  wealth  and  light  and  color,  and 
then  taken,  —  taken,  in  some  dreadful  way,  to  teach  him 
the  necessary  and  inevitable  result  of  such  extravagant 
luxuriance?  It  makes  me  shiver. 

It  was  that  very  noon  when  papa  brought  in  the 
amber,  that  he  came  for  the  first  time  since  his  return 
from  Europe.  He  hadn't  met  Lu  before.  I  ran,  be 
cause  I  was  in  my  morning  wrapper.  Don't  you  see  it 
there,  that  cream-colored,  undyed  silk,  with  the  dear 
palms  and  ferns  swimming  all  over  it  ?  And  half  my  hair 
was  just  fluD  £  into  a  little  black  net  that  Lu  had  made 


18  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

me ;  we  both  had  run  down  as  we  were  when  we  heard 
papa.  I  scampered ;  but  he  saw  only  Lu,  and  grasped  her 
hands.  Then,  of  course,  I  stopped  on  the  baluster  to 
look.  They  didn't  say  anything,  only  seemed  to  be 
reading  up  for  the  two  years  in  each  other's  eyes ;  but 
Lu  dropped  her  kid  box,  and  as  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up, 
he  held  it,  and  then  took  out  the  ring,  looked  at  her  and 
smiled,  and  put  it  on  his  finger.  The  one  she  had 
always  worn  was  no  more  a  mystery.  He  has  such 
little  hands!  they  don't  seem  made  for  anything  but 
slender  crayons  and  water-colors,  as  if  oils  would  weigh 
them  down  with  the  pigment;  but  there  is  a  nervy 
strength  about  them  that  could  almost  bend  an  ash. 

Papa's  breezy  voice  blew  through  the  room  next 
minute,  welcoming  him ;  and  then  he  told  Lu  to  put  up 
her  jewels,  and  order  luncheon,  at  which,  of  course,  the 
other  wanted  to  see  the  jewels  nearer;  and  I  couldn't 
stand  that,  but  slipped  down  and  walked  right  in,  lifting 
my  amber,  and  saying,  "  Oh,  but  this  is  what  you  must 
look  at!" 

He  turned,  somewhat  slowly,  with  such  a  lovely  indif 
ference,  and  let  his  eyes  idly  drop  on  me.  He  did  n't 
look  at  the  amber  at  all ;  he  did  n't  look  at  me ;  I  seemed 
to  fill  his  gaze  without  any  action  from  him,  for  he  stood 
quiet  and  passive;  my  voice,  too,  seemed  to  wrap  him 
in  a  dream,  —  only  an  instant  though;  then  I  had 
reached  him. 

"  You  Ve  not  forgotten  Tone,"  said  papa,  "  who  went 
persimmon  and  came  apricot?" 

"  I  Ve  not  forgotten  Tone,"  answered  he,  as  if  half 
asleep.  "  But  who  is  this  ?  " 

"Who  is  this?"  echoed  papa.  "Wl:y,  this  is  my 
great  West  Indian  magnolia,  my  Cleoj  atra  in  light 
colors,  my  —  " 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  19 

"  Hush,  you  silly  man ! " 

"  This  is  she,"  putting  his  hands  on  my  shoulders,  — 
"  Miss  Giorgione  Willoughby." 

By  this  time  he  had  found  his  manners. 

"  Miss  Giorgione  Willoughby,"  he  said,  with  a  cool 
bow,  "  I  never  knew  you." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  I  retorted.  "  Now  you  and  my 
father  have  settled  the  question,  know  my  amber  ! "  and 
lifting  it  again,  it  got  caught  in  that  curl. 

I  have  good  right  to  love  my  hair.  What  was  there  to 
do,  when  it  snarled  in  deeper  every  minute,  but  for  him 
to  help  me  ?  and  then,  at  the  friction  of  our  hands,  the 
beads  gave  out  slightly  their  pungent  smell  that  breathes 
all  through  the  Arabian  Nights,  you  know  ;  and  the  per 
fumed  curls  were  brushing  softly  over  his  fingers,  and  I  a 
little  vexed  and  flushed  as  the  blind  blew  back  and  let  in 
the  sunshine  and  a  roistering  wind ;  —  why,  it  was  all  a 
pretty  scene,  to  be  felt  then  and  remembered  afterward. 
Lu,  I  believe,  saw  at  that  instant  how  it  would  be,  and 
moved  away  to  do  as  papa  had  asked ;  but  no  thought  of 
it  came  to  me. 

"  Well,  if  you  can't  clear  the  tangle,"  I  said,  "  you  can 
see  the  beads." 

But  while  with  delight  he  examined  their  curious  fret 
ting,  he  yet  saw  me. 

I  am  used  to  admiration  now,  certainly  ;  it  is  my  food ; 
without  it  I  should  die  of  inanition ;  but  do  you  suppose  I 
care  any  more  for  those  who  give  it  to  me  than  a  Chinese 
idol  does  for  whoever  swings  incense  before  it  ?  Are  you 
devoted  to  your  butcher  and  milkman  ?  We  desire  only 
the  unpossessed  or  unattainable,  "  something  afar  from  the 
sphere  of  our  sorrow."  But,  though  unconsciously,  I  may 
have  been  piqued  by  this  manner  of  his.  It  was  new ; 


20  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

not  a  word,  not  a  glance ;  I  believed  it  was  carelessness, 
and  resolved  —  merely  for  the  sake  of  conquering,  I  fan 
cied,  too  —  to  change  all  that.  By  and  by  the  beads 
dropped  out  of  the  curl,  as  if  they  had  been  possessed  of 
mischief  and  had  held  there  of  themselves.  He  caught 
them. 

"  Here,  Circe,"  he  said. 

That  was  the  time  I  was  so  angry ;  for,  at  the  second, 
he  meant  all  it  comprehended.  He  saw,  I  suppose,  for 
he  added  at  once,  — 

"  Or  what  was  the  name  of  the  Witch  of  Atlas, 

*  The  magic  circle  of  whose  voice  and  eyes 
All  savage  natures  did  imparadise '  ?  " 

I  wonder  what  made  me  think  him  mocking  me.  Fre 
quently  since  then  he  has  called  me  by  that  word. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  geography,"  I  said.  "  Be 
sides,  these  did  n't  come  from  there.  Little  Asian  —  the 
imp  of  my  name,  you  remember  —  owned  them." 

"  Ah  ?  "  with  the  utmost  apathy ;  and  turning  to  my 
father,  "I  saw  the  painting  that  enslaved  you,  sir,"  he 
said. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  papa,  gleefully.  "And  then  why 
did  n't  you  make  me  a  copy  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  Here  he  glanced  round  the  room,  as  if  he 
were  n't  thinking  at  all  of  the  matter  in  hand.  "  The  col 
oring  is  more  than  one  can  describe,  though  faded.  But 
I  don't  think  you  would  like  it  so  much  now.  Moreover, 
sir,  I  cannot  make  copies." 

I  stepped  towards  them,  quite  forgetful  of  my  pride. 
"  Can't  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  how  splendid !  Because 
then  no  other  man  comes  between  you  and  Nature  ;  your 
ideal  hangs  before  you,  and  special  glimpses  open  and 
shut  on  you,  glimpses  which  copyists  never  obtain." 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  21 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  right,"  he  said,  coldly,  his  hands 
loosely  crossed  behind  him,  leaning  on  the  corner  of  the 
mantel,  and  looking  unconcernedly  out  of  the  window. 

Was  n't  it  provoking  ?  I  remembered  myself,  —  and  re 
membered,  too,  that  I  never  had  made  a  real  exertion  to 
procure  anything,  and  it  was  n't  worth  while  to  begin  then ; 
besides  not  being  my  forte,  —  things  must  come  to  me. 
Just  then  Lu  re-entered,  and  one  of  the  servants  brought 
a  tray,  and  we  had  lunch.  Then  our  visitor  rose  to  go. 

"  No,  no,"  said  papa.  "  Stay  the  day  out  with  the  girls. 
It 's  May-day,  and  there  are  to  be  fireworks  on  the  other 
bank  to-night." 

"  Fireworks  for  May-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.     Wait  and  see." 

"  It  would  be  so  pleasant ! "  pleaded  Lu. 

"  And  a  band,  I  forgot  to  mention.  I  have  an  engage 
ment  myself,  so  you  '11  excuse  me ;  but  the  girls  will  do 
the  honors,  and  I  shall  meet  you  at  dinner." 

So  it  was  arranged.  Papa  went  out.  I  curled  up  on 
a  lounge,  —  for  Lu  would  n't  have  liked  to  be  left,  if  I 
had  liked  to  leave  her,  —  and  soon,  when  he  sat  down 
by  her  quite  across  the  room,  I  half  shut  my  eyes  and 
pretended  to  sleep.  He  began  to  turn  over  her  work- 
basket,  taking  up  her  thimble,  snipping  at  the  thread 
with  her  scissors :  I  see  now  he  was  n't  thinking  about 
it,  and  was  trying  to  recover  what  he  considered  a  proper 
state  of  feeling,  but  I  fancied  he  was  very  gentle  and 
tender,  though  I  couldn't  hear  what  they  said,  and  I 
never  took  the  trouble  to  listen  in  my  life.  In  about 
five  minutes  I  was  tired  of  this  playing  'possum,  and 
took  my  observations. 

What  is  your  idea  of  a  Louise  ?  Mine  is,  —  dark 
eyes,  dark  hair,  decided  features,  pale,  brown  pale,  with 


22  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

a  mole  on  the  left  cheek,  —  and  that 's  Louise.  Nothing 
striking,  but  pure  and  clear,  and  growing  always  better. 

For  him,  —  he 's  not  one  of  those  cliff-like  men  against 
whom  you  are  blown  as  a  feather.  I  don't  fancy  that 
kind ;  I  can  stand  of  myself,  rule  myself.  He  is  n't  small, 
though ;  no,  he 's  tall  enough,  but  all  his  frame  is  deli 
cate,  held  to  earth  by  nothing  but  the  cords  of  a  strong 
will,  —  very  little  body,  very  much  soul.  He,  too,  is 
pale,  and  has  dark  eyes,  with  violet  darks  in  them.  You 
don't  call  him  beautiful  in  the  least,  but  you  don't  know 
him.  I  call  him  beauty  itself,  and  I  know  him  thor 
oughly.  A  stranger  might  have  thought,  when  I  spoke 
of  those  copals  Rose  carved,  that  Rose  was  some  girl. 
But  though  he  has  a  feminine  sensibility,  like  Correggio 
or  Schubert,  nobody  could  call  him  womanish.  "  Les 
races  se  feminisent."  Don't  you  remember  Matthew 
Roydon's  Astrophill? 

"  A  sweet,  attractive  kind  of  grace, 
A  full  assTirance  given  by  looks, 
Continual  comfort  in  a  face." 

I  always  think  of  that  flame  in  an  alabaster  vase,  when 
I  see  him;  "one  sweet  grace  fed  still  with  one  sweet 
mind  " ;  a  countenance  of  another  sphere :  that 's  Vaughan 
Rose.  It  provokes  me  that  I  can't  paint  him  myself, 
without  other  folk's  words ;  but  you  see  there 's  no  natural 
image  of  him  in  me,  and  so  I  can't  throw  it  strongly  on 
any  canvas.  As  for  his  manners,  you  've  seen  them ;  — 
now  tell  me,  was  there  ever  anything  so  winning  when 
he  pleases,  and  always  a  most  gracious  courtesy  in  his 
air,  even  when  saying  an  insufferably  uncivil  thing  ?  He 
has  an  art,  a  science,  of  putting  the  unpleasant  out  of  his 
sight,  ignoring  or  looking  over  it,  which  sometimes  gives 
him  an  absent  way ;  and  that  is  because  he  so  delights  in 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  23 

beauty;  he  seems  to  have  woven  a  mist  over  his  face 
then,  and  to  be  shut  in  on  his  own  inner  loveliness ;  and 
many  a  woman  thinks  he  is  perfectly  devoted,  when, 
very  like,  he  is  swinging  over  some  lonely  Spanish 
sierra  beneath  the  stars,  or  buried  in  noonday  Brazilian 
forests,  half  stifled  with  the  fancied  breath  of  every  gor 
geous  blossom  of  the  zone.  Till  this  time,  it  had  been 
the  perfection  of  form  rather  than  tint  that  had  enthralled 
him ;  he  had  come  .home  with  severe  ideas,  too  severe ; 
he  needed  me,  you  see. 

But  while  looking  at  him  and  Lu,  on  that  day,  I 
didn't  perceive  half  of  this,  only  felt  annoyed  at  their 
behavior,  and  let  them  feel  that  I  was  noticing  them. 
There's  nothing  worse  than  that;  it's  a  very  upas- 
breath  ;  it  puts  on  the  brakes ;  and  of  course  a  chill  and 
a  restraint  overcame  them  till  Mr.  Dudley  was  an 
nounced. 

"Dear!  dear!"  I  exclaimed,  getting  upon  my  feet, 
"What  ever  shall  we  do,  Lu?  I'm  not  dressed  for 
him."  And  while  I  stood,  Mr.  Dudley  came  in. 

Mr.  Dudley  didn't  seem  to  mind  whether  I  was 
dressed  in  cobweb  or  sheet-iron ;  for  he  directed  his 
looks  and  conversation  so  much  to  Lu,  that  Rose  came 
and  sat  on  a  stool  before  me  and  began  to  talk. 

"  Miss  Willoughby  —  " 

"  Yone,  please." 

"  But  you  are  not  Yone." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  choose.     You  were  going  to  say — ?  " 

"Merely  to  ask  how  you  lived  the  Islands." 

"  Oh,  well  enough." 

"  No  more  ?  "  he  said.  "  They  would  n't  have  broken 
your  spell  so,  if  that  had  been  all.  Do  you  know,  I  ac 
tually  believe  in  enchantments  now  ?  " 


24  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

I  was  indignant,  but  amused  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  why  don't  you  say  it  ?  How 
impertinent  am  I?  You  won't?  Why  don't  you  laugh, 
then?" 

"  Dear  me ! "  I  replied.  "  You  are  so  much  on  the 
1  subtle-souled-psychologist '  line,  that  there 's  no  need  of. 
my  speaking  at  all." 

"  I  can  carry  on  all  the  dialogue  ?  Then  let  me  say  how 
you  liked  the  Islands."  > ". 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing.  J  liked  the  West  Indies 
because  there  is  life  there ;  because  the  air  is  a  firmament 
of  balm,  and  you  grow  in  it  like  a  flower  in  the  sun ;  be 
cause  the  fierce  heat  and  panting  winds  wake  and  kindle 
all  latent  color  and  fertilize  every  germ  of  delight  that 
might  sleep  here  forever.  That 's  why  I  liked  them  ;  and 
you  knew  it  just  as  well  before  as  now." 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  knew  it.  So  you 
think  there  is  life  there  in  that  dead  Atlantis." 

"  Life  of  the  elements,  rain,  hail,  fire,  and  snow." 

"  Snow  thrice  bolted  by  the  northern  blast,  I  fancy,  by 
which  time  it  becomes  rather  misty.  Exaggerated  snow." 

"  Everything  there  is  an  exaggeration.  Coming  here 
from  England  is  like  stepping  out  of  a  fog  into  an  almost 
exhausted  receiver ;  but  you  've  no  idea  what  light  is,  till 
you  've  been  in  those  inland  hills.  You  think  a  blue  sky 
the  perfection  of  bliss  ?  When  you  see  a  white  sky,  a 
dome  of  colorless  crystal,  with  purple  swells  of  mountain 
heaving  round  you,  and  a  wilderness  in  golden  greens 
royally  languid  below,  whil  3  stretches  of  a  scarlet  blaze, 
enough  to  ruin  a  weak  constitution,  flaunt  from  the  rank 
vines  that  lace  every  thicket,  —  and  the  whole  world,  and 
you  with  it,  seems  breaking  to  blossom,  —  why,  then  you 
know  what  light  is  and  can  do.  The  very  wind  there  by 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  25 

day  is  bright,  now  faint,  now  stinging,  and  makes  a  low 
wiry  music  through  the  loose  sprays  as  if  they  were  tense 
harpstrings.  Nothing  startles  ;  all  is  like  a  grand  compo 
sition  utterly  wrought  out.  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  the 
blacks  have  been  imported  there,  —  their  swarthiness  is  in 
such  consonance ! " 

"  No ;  the  native  race  was  in  better  consonance.  You 
are  so  enthusiastic,  it  is  pity  you  ever  came  away." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  did  n't  know  anything  about  it  till  I 
came  back." 

"But  a  mere  animal  or  vegetable  life  is  not  much. 
What  was  ever  done  in  the  tropics?" 

"  Almost  all  the  world's  history,  —  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed ;  only  the  first,  most  trifling,  and  barba 
rian  movements." 

"  At  all  events,  you  are  full  of  blessedness  in  those 
climates,  and  that  is  the  end  and  aim  of  all  action  ;  and  if 
Nature  will  do  it  for  you,  there  is  no  need  of  your  inter 
ference.  It  is  much  better  to  be  than  to  do ;  —  one  is 
strife,  the  other  is  possession." 

"  You  mean  being  as  the  complete  attainment  ?  There 
is  only  one  Being,  then.  All  the  rest  of  us  are  —  " 

"  O  dear  me !  that  sounds  like  metaphysics  !    Don't !  " 

"  So  you  see,  you  are  not  full  of  blessedness  there." 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  born  in  Abelard's  time,  — 
you  've  such  a  disputatious  spirit.  That 's  I  don't  know 
how  many  times  you  have  contradicted  me  to-day." 

"Pardon." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  so  easy  with  all  women." 

"  I  don't  know  many." 

"  I  shall  watch  to  see  if  you  contradict  Lu  this  way." 

"  I  don't  need.     How  absorbed  she  is  !    Mr.  Dudley  is 
interesting'?" 
2 


26  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

"  I  don't  know.  No.  But  then,  Lu  is  a  good  girl, 
and  he 's  her  minister,  —  a  Delphic  oracle.  She  thinks 
the  sun  and  moon  set  somewhere  round  Mr.  Dudley. 
Oh !  I  mean  to  show  him  my  amber ! " 

And  I  tossed  it  into  Lu's  lap,  saying,  — 

"  Show  it  to  Mr.  Dudley,  Lu,  —  and  ask  him  if  it  is  n't 
divine ! " 

Of  course,  he  was  shocked,  and  would  n't  go  into  ecsta 
sies  at  all ;  tripped  on  the  adjective. 

"  There  are  gods  enough  in  it  to  be  divine,"  said  Rose, 
taking  it  from  Lu's  hand  and  bringing  it  back  to  me. 
"All  those  very  Gnostic  deities  who  assisted  at  Creation. 
You  are  not  afraid  that  the  imprisoned  things  work  their 
spells  upon  you  ?  The  oracle  declares  it  suits  your  cousin 
best,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone. 

"  All  the  oaf  knows  !  "  I  responded.  "  I  wish  you  'd 
admire  it,  Mr.  Dudley.  Mr.  Rose  don't  like  amber,  — 
handles  it  like  nettles." 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  "  I  don't  like  amber." 

"  He  prefers  aqua-marina,"  I  continued.  "  Lu,  pro 
duce  yours  !  "  For  she  had  not  heard  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dudley,  spacing  his  syllables  and  rub 
bing  his  finger  over  his  lip  while  he  gazed,  "  every  one 
must  prefer  aqua-marina." 

"  Nonsense  !  It 's  no  better  than  glass.  I  'd  as  soon 
wear  a  set  of  window-panes.  There 's  no  expression  in 
it.  It  is  n't  alive,  like  real  gems." 

Mr.  Dudley  stared.     Rose  laughed. 

"  What  a  vindication  of  amber  !  "  he  said. 

He  was  standing  now,  leaning  against  the  mantel,  just 
as  he  was  before  lunch.  Lu  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  Yone  is  exultant,  because  we  both  wanted  the  beads," 
she  said.  "  I  like  amber  as  much  as  she." 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  27 

"  Nothing  near  so  much,  Lu  !  " 

"  Why  did  n't  you  have  them,  then  ?  "  asked  Rose, 
quickly. 

"  Oh,  they  belonged  to  Tone ;  and  uncle  gave  me  these, 
which  I  like  better.  Amber  is  warm,  and  smells  of  the 
earth ;  but  this  is  cool  and  dewy,  and  —  " 

"  Smells  of  heaven  ?  "  asked  I,  significantly. 

Mr.  Dudley  began  to  fidget,  for  he  saw  no  chance  of 
finishing  his  exposition. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  Miss  Louisa,"  he  began,  in  a  different 
key. 

I  took  my  beads  and  wound  them  round  my  wrist. 
"  You  have  n't  as  much  eye  for  color  as  a  poppy-bee," 
I  exclaimed,  in  a  corresponding  key,  and  looking  up  at 
Rose. 

"  Unjust.  I  was  thinking  then  how  entirely  they  suited 
you." 

"  Thank  you.  Vastly  complimentary  from  one  who 
'don't  like  amber'!" 

Nevertheless,  you  think  so." 

"  Yes  and  no.     Why  don't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  You  must  n't  ask  me  for  my  reasons.  It  is  not  merely 
disagreeable,  but  hateful." 

"  And  you  've  been  beside  me  like  a  Christian  all  this 
time,  and  I  had  it !  " 

"  The  perfume  is  acrid ;  I  associate  it  with  the  lower 
jaw  of  St.  Basil  the  Great,  styled  a  present  of  immense 
value,  you  remember,  —  being  hard,  heavy,  shining -like 
gold,  the  teeth  yet  in  it,  and  with  a  smell  more  delightful 
than  amber,"  —  making  a  mock  shudder  at  the  word. 

"  Oh,  it  is  prejudice,  then." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  It  is  antipathy.  Besides,  the  thing 
is  unnatural  j  there  is  no  existent  cause  for  it.  A  bit 


28  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

that  turns  up  on  certain  sands,  —  here  at  home,  for  aught 
I  know,  as  often  as  anywhere." 

"  Which  means  Nazareth.  We  must  teach  you,  sir, 
that  there  are  some  things  at  home  as  rare  as  those 
abroad." 

"  I  am  taught,"  he  said,  very  low,  and  without  look 
ing  up. 

"  Just  tell  me  what  is  amber  ?  " 

"  Fossil  gum." 

"  Can  you  say  those  words  and  not  like  it  ?  Don't  it 
bring  to  you  a  magnificent  picture  of  the  pristine  world, 
—  great  seas  and  other  skies,  —  a  world  of  accentuated 
crises,  that  sloughed  off  age  after  age,  and  rose  fresher 
from  each  plunge  ?  Don't  you  see,  or  long  to  see,  that 
mysterious  magic  tree  out  of  whose  pores  oozed  this  fine 
solidified  sunshine  ?  What  leaf  did  it  have  ?  what  blos 
som  ?  what  great  wind  shivered  its  branches  ?  Was  it  a 
giant  on  a  lonely  coast,  or  thick  low  growth  blistered  in 
ravines  and  dells  ?  That 's  the  witchery  of  amber,  — 
that  it  has  no  cause,  —  that  all  the  world  grew  to  produce 
it,  maybe,  —  died  and  gave  no  other  sign,  —  that  its 
tree,  which  must  have  been  beautiful,  dropped  all  its 
fruits,  —  and  how  bursting  with  juice  must  they  have 
been  —  " 

"  Unfortunately,  coniferous." 

61  Be  quiet.  Stripped  itself  of  all  its  lush  luxuriance, 
and  left  for  a  vestige  only  this  little  fester  of  its  gashes." 

"  No,  again,"  he  once  more  interrupted.  "  I  have  seen 
remnants  of  the  wood  and  bark  in  a  museum." 

"Or  has  it  hidden  and  compressed  all  its  secret 
here  ?  "  I  continued,  obliviously.  "  What  if  in  some  piece 
of  amber  an  accidental  seed  were  sealed ;  we  found,  and 
planted,  and  brought  back  the  lost  aeons  ?•  What  a  glori- 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  29 

ous  world  that  must  have  been  where  even  the  gum  was 
so  precious!" 

"In  a  picture,  yes.  Necessary  for  this.  But,  my 
dear  Miss  Willoughby,  you  convince  me  that  the  Amber 
Witch  founded  your  family,"  he  said,  having  listened 
with  an  amused  face.  "Loveliest  amber  that  ever  the 
sorrowing  sea-birds  have  wept,"  he  hummed.  "  There  I 
is  n't  that  kind  of  stuff  enough  to  make  a  man  detest  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  are  quite  as  bad  in  another  way." 

"  Oh ! " 

"  Just  because,  when  we  hold  it  in  our  hands,  we  hold 
also  that  furious  epoch  where  rioted  all  monsters  and 
poisons,  —  where  death  fecundated  and  life  destroyed,  — 
where  .  superabundance  demanded  such  existences,  no 
souls,  but  fiercest  animal  fire;  —  just  for  that  I  hate  it" 

"  Why,  then,  is  it  fitted  for  me  ?  " 

He  laughed  again,  but  replied:  "The  hues  harmo 
nize  ;  the  substances ;  you  both  are  accidents ;  it  suits 
your  beauty." 

So,  then,  it  seemed  I  had  beauty,  after  all. 

"  You  mean  that  it  harmonizes  with  me,  because  I  am 
a  symbol  of  its  period.  If  there  had  been  women,  then, 
they  would  have  been  like  me,  —  a  great  creature  with 
out  a  soul,  a  —  " 

"  Pray,  don't  finish  the  sentence.  I  can  imagine  that 
there  is  something  rich  and  voluptuous  and  sating  about 
amber,  its  color,  and  its  lustre,  and  its  scent;  but  for 
others,  not  for  me.  Yes,  you  have  beauty,  after  all," 
turning  suddenly,  and  withering  me  with  his  eye, — 
"beauty,  after  all,  as  you  didn't  say  just  now.  Why 
don't  you  put  some  of  it  into  — .  Mr.  Willoughby  is  in 
the  garden.  I  must  go  before  he  comes  in,  or  he  '11 


30  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

make   me   stay.     There  are   some  to  whom  you    can't 
say,  No." 

He  stopped  a  minute,  and  now,  without  looking, — 
indeed,  he  looked  everywhere  but  at  me,  while  we 
talked,  —  made  a  bow  as  if  just  seating  me  from  a  waltz, 
and,  with  his  eyes  and  his  smile  on  Louise  all  the  way 
down  the  room,  went  out.  Did  you  ever  know  such 
insolence  ? 

Papa  made  Mr.  Dudley  stay  and  dine,  and  of  course  we 
were  almost  bored  to  death,  when  in  came  Rose  again, 
stealing  behind  Lu's  chair,  and  showering  her  in  the  twi 
light  with  a  rain  of  May-flowers. 

"  Now  you  '11  have  to  gather  them  again,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  how  exquisite !  how  delicious !  how  I  thank  you ! " 
she  exclaimed,  without  disturbing  one,  however. 

"You  won't  touch  them  again?  Then  I  must,"  he 
added. 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Rose!"  I  cried.  "I'll  pick  them  up, 
and  take  toll." 

"  Don't  touch  them ! "  said  Lu,  "  they  're  so  sweet ! " 

"  Yes,"  he  murmured  lower,  "  they  share  with  you.  I 
always  said  so,  you  remember." 

"  O  yes !  and  every  May-day  but  the  last  you  have 
brought  them  to  me." 

"  Have  you  the  trailing-arbutus  there  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Dudley. 

"  No,"  returned  Rose. 

"  I  thought  I  detected  strawberries,"  submitted  the  other, 
—  "a  pleasant  odor  which  recalls  childhood  to  memory." 

For  some  noses  all  sweet  scents  are  lumped  in  one  big 
strawberry  ;  clovers,  or  hyacinths,  or  every  laden  air  indif 
ferently,  they  still  sniff — strawberries.  Commonplace ! 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  31 

"It's  a  sign  of  high  birth  to  track  strawberry-beds 
where  no  fruit  is,  Mr.  Dudley,"  said  I. 

"  Very  true,  Miss  "Willoughby.  I  was  born  pretty  high 
up  in  the  Green  Mountains." 

"  And  so  keep  your  memory  green  ?  " 

"  Strawberries  in  June,"  said  Rose,  good-naturedly. 
"But  fruit  out  of  season  is  trouble  out  of  reason,  the 
Dream-Book  says.  It's  May  now,  and  these  are  its 
blossoms." 

"  Everybody  makes  such  a  fuss  about  ground-laurel ! " 
said  I.  "I  don't  see  why,  I'm  sure.  They're  never 
perfect.  The  leaf  is  hideous,  —  a  stupid  duenna  !  You 
get  great  green  leaves,  and  the  flowers  all  white  ;  you  get 
deep  rosy  flowers,  and  the  leaves  are  all  brown  and  bit 
ten.  They  're  neither  one  thing  nor  another.  They  're 
just  like  heliotropes,  —  no  bloom  at  all,  only  scent.  I  Ve 
torn  up  myriads,  to  the  ten  stamens  in  their  feathered 
case,  to  find  where  that  smell  comes  from,  —  that  is  per 
fectly  delicious, —  and  I  never  Could.  They  are  a  cheat." 

"  Have  you  finished  your  tirade  ? "  asked  Rose,  indif 
ferently. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  mean  so,"  murmured  Lu.  "  They 
have  a  color  of  their  own,  almost  human,  infantine  ;  and 
when  you  mass  them,  the  tone  is  more  soft  and  mellow 
than  a  flute.  Everybody  loves  May-flowers." 

"Just  about.     I  despise  flutes.     I  like  bassoons." 

"  They  are  prophets  of  apple-blossoms." 

"  Which  brings  them  at  once  into  the  culinary." 

"  They  are  not  very  showy,"  said  Mr.  Dudley ;  "  but 
when  we  remember  the  Fathers  —  " 

"  There 's  nothing  like  them,"  said  Rose,  gently,  as  he 
knelt  by  Lu,  slowly  putting  them  into  order ;  "  nothing 
but  pure,  clear  things  ;  they  're  the  fruit  of  snow-flakes,  the 


32  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

firstlings  of  the  year.  When  one  thinks  how  sweetly 
they  come  from  their  warm  coverts  and  look  into  this 
cold,  breezy  sky  so  unshrinkingly,  and  from  what  a  soil 
they  gather  such  a  wealth  of  simple  beauty,  one  feels 
ashamed." 

"  Climax  worthy  of  the  useless  things  ! "  said  I. 

"  The  moment  in  which  first  we  are  thoroughly 
ashamed,  Miss  Willoughby,  is  the  sovereign  one  of  our 
life.  Useless  things  ?  They  are  worth  king  and  bishop. 
Every  year,  weariness  and  depression  melt  away  when 
atop  of  the  seasons'  crucible  boil  these  little  bubbles. 
Is  n't  everybody  better  for  lavishing  love  ?  And  no  one 
merely  likes  these ;  whoever  cares  at  all,  loves  entirely. 
We  always  take  and  give  resemblances  or  sympathies 
from  any  close  connection,  and  so  these  are  in  their  way 
a  type  of  their  lovers.  What  virtue  is  in  them  to  distil 
the  shadow  of  the  great  pines,  that  wave  layer  after  layer 
with  a  grave  rhythm  over  them,  into  this  delicate  tint,  I 
wonder.  They  have  so  decided  an  individuality,  —  dif 
ferent  there  from  hot-house  belles ;  —  fashion  strips  us  of 
our  characteristics  —  " 

"  You  need  n't  turn  to  me  for  illustration  of  exotics," 
said  I. 

He  threw  me  a  cluster,  half-hidden  in  its  green  towers, 
and  went  on,  laying  one  by  one  and  bringing  out  little 
effects. 

"  The  sweetest  modesty  clings  to  them,  which  Alphonse 
Karr  denies  to  the  violet,  so  that  they  are  almost  out  of 
place  in  a  drawing-room ;  one  ought  to  give  them  there 
the  shelter  of  their  large,  kind  leaves." 

"  Hemlock 's  the  only  wear,"  said  Louise. 

"Or  last  year's  scarlet  blackberry  triads.  Vines  to 
gether,"  he  suggested. 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  33 

"  But  sometimes  they  forget  their  nun-like  habit,"  she 
added,  "  put  on  a  frolicsome  mood,  and  clamber  out  and 
flush  all  the  deep  ruts  of  the  carriage-road  in  Follymill 
Woods,  you  remember." 

"  Penance  next  year,"  said  I. 

"  No,  no ;  you  are  not  to  bring  your  old  world  into 
my  new,"  objected  Eose ;  "  they  're  fair  little  Puritans, 
who  do  no  penance.  Perhaps  they  ran  out  so  to  greet 
the  winter-worn  mariners  of  Plymouth,  and  have  beeu 
pursued  by  the  love  of  their  descendants  ever  since, 
they  getting  charier.  Just  remember  how  they  grow. 
Why,  you  'd  never  suspect  a  flower  there,  till,  happening 
to  turn  up  a  leaf,  you  're  in  the  midst  of  harvest.  You 
may  tramp  acres  in  vain,  and  within  a  stone's  throw 
they've  been  awaiting  you.  There's  something  very 
charming,  too,  about  them  in  this,  —  that  when  the  buds 
are  set,  and  at  last  a  single  blossom  starts  the  trail,  you 
plucking  at  one  end  of  the  vine,  your  heart's  delight 
may  touch  the  other  a  hundred  miles  away.  Spring's 
telegraph.  So  they  bind  our  coast  with  this  network 
of  flower  and  root." 

"  By  no  means,"  I  asserted.     "  They  grow  in  spots." 

"  Pshaw  !  I  won't  believe  it.  They  're  everywhere 
just  the  same,  only  underground  preparing  their  little 
witnesses,  whom  they  send  out  where  most  needed. 
You  don't  suppose  they  find  much  joy  in  the  fellow 
ship  of  brown  pine  pins  and  sad  gray  mosses,  do  you  ? 
Some  folks  say  they  don't  grow  away  from  the  shore; 
but  I  've  found  them,  I  'm  sorry  to  say,  up  in  New  Hamp 
shire." 

"  Why  sorry  ?  "  asked  Lu. 

"  Oh,  I  like  it  best  that  they  need  our  sea.  They  're 
eminently  choice  for  this  hour,  too,  when  you  scarcely 
2*  c 


34  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

gather  their  tint,  —  that  tint,  as  if  moonlight  should 
wish  to  become  a  flower,  —  but  their  fragrance  is  an 
atmosphere  all  about  you.  How  genuinely  spicy  it  is ! 
It's  the  very  quintessence  of  those  regions  all  whose 
sweetness  exudes  in  sun-saturated  balsams,  —  the  very 
breath  of  pine  woods  and  salt  sea  winds.  How  could 
it  live  away  from  the  sea  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Dudley,  "  you  speak  as  if  it  were 
a  creature ! " 

"  A  hard  woody  stem,  a  green  robust  leaf,  a  delicate 
odorous  flower,  Mr.  Dudley,  what  is  it  all  but  an  expres 
sion  of  New  England  character  ?  " 

"Doxology!"  said  I. 

"  Now,  Miss  Louise,  as  you  have  made  me  atone  for 
my  freedom,  the  task  being  done,  let  me  present  them 
in  form." 

"  I  'm  sure  she  need  n't  praise  them,"  said  I. 

She  did  n't. 

"  I  declared  people  make  a  great  fuss  over  them,"  I 
continued.  "And  you  prove  it.  You  put  me  in  mind 
of  a  sound  to  be  heard  where  one  gets  them,  —  a  strange 
sound,  like  low,  distant  thunder,  and  it 's  nothing  but  the 
drum  of  a  little  partridge !  a  great  song  out  of  nothing. 
—  Bless  me!  what's  that?" 

"  Oh,  the  fireworks  !  "  said  Lu.  And  we  all  thronged 
to  the  windows. 

"  It 's  very  good  of  your  uncle  to  have  them,"  said  Rose. 
"  What  a  crowd  from  the  town !  Think  of  the  pyrotechnics 
among  comets  and  aerolites  some  fellows  may  have  !  It 's 
quite  right,  too,  to  make  our  festivals  with  light ;  it 's 
the  highest  and  last  of  all  things ;  we  never  can  carry  our 
imaginations  beyond  light  —  " 

"Our  imaginations  ought  to  carry  us,"  said  Lu. 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  35 

u  Come,"  I  said,  "  you  can  play  what  pranks  you  please 
with  the  little  May ;  but  light  is  my  province,  my  absorp 
tion  ;  let  it  alone." 

It  grew  quite  dark,  interrupted. now  and  then  by  the 
glare  of  rockets ;  but  at  last  a  stream  of  central  fire  went 
out  in  a  slow  rain  of  countless  violets,  reflected  with  pale 
blue  flashes  in  the  river  below,  and  then  the  gloom  was 
unbroken.  I  saw  them,  in  that  long  dim  gleam,  standing 
together  at  a  window.  Louise,  her  figure  almost  swaying 
as  if  to  some  inaudible  music,  but  her  face  turned  to  him 
with  such  a  steady  quiet.  Ah  me!  what  a  tremulous 
joy,  what  passion,  and  what  search,  lit  those  eyes !  But 
you  know  that  passion  means  suffering,  and,  tracing  it  in 
the  original  through  its  roots,  you  come  to  pathos,  and 
still  farther,  to  lamentation,  I  've  heard.  But  he  was  not 
looking  down  at  her,  only  out  and  away,  paler  than  ever 
in  the  blue  light,  sad  and  resolved.  I  ordered  candles. 

"  Sing  to  me,  Louise,"  said  Rose,  at  length.  "  It  is  two 
years  since  I  heard  you." 

"  Sing  '  What 's  a'  the  steer,  kimmer,'  "  I  said.  But  in 
stead,  she  gave  the  little  ballad,  a  And  bring  my  love  again, 
for  he  lies  among  the  Moors." 

Rose  went  and  leaned  over  the  piano-forte  while  she 
sang,  bending,  and  commanding  her  eyes.  He  seemed  to 
wish  to  put  himself  where  he  was  before  he  ever  left  her, 
to  awaken  everything  lovely  in  her,  to  bring  her  before 
him  as  utterly  developed  as  she  might  be, — not  only  to 
afford  her,  but  to  force  upon  her,  every  chance  to  master 
him.  He  seemed  to  wish  to  love,  I  thought. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  as  she  ceased.  "  Did  you  choose 
it  purposely,  Louise  ?  " 

Lu  sang  very  nicely,  and,  though  I  dare  say  she  would 
rather  not  then,  when  Mr.  Dudley  asked  for  the  "  Vale  of 


36  THE  AMBER  GODS: 

Avoca,"  and  the  "  Margin  of  Zurich's  Fair  Waters,"  she 
gave  them  just  as  kindly.  Altogether,  quite  a  damp  pro 
gramme.  Then  papa  came  in,  bright  and  blithe,  whirled 
me  round  in  a  pas  de  deux,  and  we  all  very  gay  and  hila 
rious  slipped  into  the  second  of  May. 

Dear  me  !  how  time  goes  !  I  must  hurry.  —  After  that, 
/did  n't  see  so  much  of  Rose ;  but  he  met  Lu  everywhere, 
came  in  when  I  was  out,  and,  if  I  returned,  he  went,  per 
fectly  regardless  of  my  existence,  it  seemed.  They  rode, 
too,  all  round  the  country  ;  and  she  sat  to  him,  though  he 
never  filled  out  the  sketch.  For  weeks  he  was  devoted ; 
but  I  fancied,  when  I  saw  them,  that  there  lingered  in  his 
manner  the  same  thing  as  on  the  first  evening  while  she 
sang  to  him.  Lu  was  so  gay  and  sweet  and  happy  that  I 
hardly  knew  her ;  she  was  always  very  gentle,  but  such  a 
decided  body,  —  that 's  the  Willoughby,  her  mother.  Yet 
during  these  weeks  Rose  had  not  spoken,  not  formally  ; 
delicate  and  friendly  kindness  was  all  Lu  could  have 
found,  had  she  sought.  One  night,  I  remember,  he  came 
in  and  wanted  us  to  go  out  and  row  with  him  on  the  river. 
Lu  would  n't  go  without  me. 

"  Will  you  come  ?  "  said  he,  coolly,  as  if  I  were  merely 
necessary  as  a  thwart  or  thole-pin  might  have  been,  turn 
ing  and  letting  his  eyes  fall  on  me  an  instant,  then  snatch 
ing  them  off  with  a  sparkle  and  flush,  and  such  a  lordly 
carelessness  of  manner  otherwise. 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  replied. 

So  they  remained,  and  Lu  began  to  open  a  bundle  of 
Border  Ballads,  which  he  had  brought  her.  The  very 
first  one  was  "  Whistle  an'  I  '11  come  to  you,  my  lad."  I 
laughed.  She  glanced  up  quickly,  then  held  it  in  •  her 
hands  a  moment,  repeated  the  name,  and  asked  if  he 
liked  it. 


THE  AMBER   GODS.  37 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  There  could  n't  be  a  Scotch  song 
without  that  rhythm  better  than  melody,  which,  after  all, 
is  Beethoven's  secret." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Louise.  "  But  I  shall  not  sing 
this." 

"  Oh,  do !  "  he  said,  turning  with  surprise.  "  You  don't 
know  what  an  aerial,  whistling  little  thing  it  is  !  " 

«  No." 

"  Why,  Louise !  There  is  nobody  could  sing  it  but 
you." 

"  Of  good  discourse,  an  excellent  musician,  and  her 
hair  shall  be  of  what  color  it  please  God,"  quoted  I,  and 
in  came  Mr.  Dudley,  as  he  usually  did  when  not  wanted ; 
though  I've  no  reason  to  find  fault  with  him,  notwith 
standing  his  blank  treatment  of  me.  He  never  took  any 
notice,  because  he  was  in  love  with  Lu.  Rose  never  took 
any  notice  of  me,  either.  But  with  a  difference  ! 

Lu  was  singularly  condescending  to  Mr.  Dudley  that 
evening ;  and  Rose,  sitting  aside,  looked  so  very  much 
disturbed  —  whether  pleasantly  or  otherwise  did  n't  occur 
to  me  —  that  I  could  n't  help  enjoying  his  discomfiture, 
and  watching  him  through  it. 

Now,  though  I  told  you  I  wasn't  nervous,  I  never 
should  know  I  had  this  luxurious  calm,  if  there  were 
nothing  to  measure  it  by ;  and  once  in  a  great  while  a 
perfect  whirlpool  seizes  me,  —  my  blood  is  all  in  tur 
moil,  —  I  bubble  with  silent  laughter,  or  cry  with  all  my 
heart.  I  had  been  in  such  a  strange  state  a  good  while  ; 
and  now,  as  I  surveyed  Rose,  it  gradually  grew  fiercer, 
till  I  actually  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  exclaimed,  "  There  ! 
it  is  insupportable  !  I  've  been  in  the  magnetic  storm  long 
enough !  it  is  time  something  took  it  from  me  !  "  and  ran 
out-doors. 


38  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

Rose  sauntered  after,  by  and  by,  as  if  unwillingly  drawn 
by  a  loadstone,  and  found  the  heavens  wrapped  in  a  rosy 
flame  of  Northern  Lights.  He  looked  as  though  he 
belonged  to  them,  so  pale  and  elf-like  was  his  face  then, 
like  one  bewitched. 

"  Papa's  fireworks  fade  before  mine,"  I  said.  "  Now 
we  can  live  in  the  woods,  as  Lu  has  been  wishing ;  for  a 
dry  southerly  wind  follows  this,  with  a  blue  smoke  filming 
all  the  distant  fields.  Won't  it  be  delicious  ?  " 

"  Or  rain,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  think  it  will  rain  to-mor 
row,  —  warm,  full  rains."  And  he  seemed  as  if  such  a 
chance  would  dissolve  him  entirely. 

As  for  me,  those  shifting,  silent  sheets  of  splendor  ab 
stracted  all  that  was  alien,  and  left  me  in  my  normal  state. 

"  There  they  come ! "  I  said,  as  Lu  and  Mr.  Dudley, 
and  some  others  who  had  entered  in  my  absence,  —  gnats 
dancing  in  the  beam,  —  stepped  down  towards  us.  "  How 
charming  for  us  all  to  sit  out  here  !  " 

"  How  annoying,  you  mean,"  he  replied,  simply  for 
contradiction. 

"  It  has  n't  been  warm  enough  before,"  I  added. 

"  And  Louise  may  take  cold  now,"  he  said,  as  if  wish 
ing  to  exhibit  his  care  for  her.  "  Whom  is  she  speaking 
with  ?  Blarsaye  ?  And  who  comes  after  ?  " 

"  Parti.  A  delightful  person,  —  been  abroad,  too. 
You  and  he  can  have  a  crack  about  Louvres  and  Vati- 
cans  now,  and  leave  Lu  and  Mr.  Dudley  to  me." 

Rose  suddenly  inspected  me  and  then  Parti,  as  if  he 
preferred  the  crack  to  be  with  cudgels  ;  but  in  a  second 
the  little  blaze  vanished,  and  he  only  stripped  a  weigelia 
branch  of  every  blossom. 

I  wonder  what  made  Lu  behave  so  that  night ;  she 
scarcely  spoke  to  Rose,  appeared  entirely  unconcerned 


THE  AMBER   GODS.  39 

while  he  hovered  round  her  like  an  officious  sprite,  was 
all  grace  to  the  others  and  sweetness  to  Mr.  Dudley. 
And  Rose,  oblivious  of  snubs,  paraded  his  devotion, 
seemed  determined  to  show  his  love  for  Lu,  —  as  if  any 
one  cared  a  straw,  —  and  took  the  pains  to  be  positively 
rude  to  me.  He  was  possessed  of  an  odd  restlessness  ;  a 
little  defiance  bristled  his  movements,  an  air  of  contrari 
ness  ;  and  whenever  he  became  quiet,  he  seemed  again 
like  one  enchanted  and  folded  up  in  a  dfeam,  to  break 
whose  spell  he  was  about  to  abandon  efforts.  He  told 
me  Life  had  destroyed  my  enchantment ;  —  I  wonder 
what  will  destroy  his.  —  Lu  refused  to  sit  in  the  garden- 
chair  he  offered, — just  suffered  the  wreath  of  pink  bells 
he  gave  her  to  hang  in  her  hand,  and  by  and  by  fall,  — 
and  when  the  north  grew  ruddier  and  swept  the  zenith 
with  lances  of  light,  and  when  it  faded,  and  a  dim  cloud 
hazed  all  the  stars,  preserved  the  same  equanimity, 
kept  on  the  evil  tenor  of  her  way,  and  bade  every  one 
an  impartial  farewell  at  separating.  She  is  preciously 
well-bred. 

We  had  n't  remained  in  the  garden  all  that  time, 
though,  —  but,  strolling  through  the  gate  and  over  the 
field,  had  reached  a  small  grove  that  fringes  the  gully 
worn  by  Wild  Fall  and  crossed  by  the  railway.  As  we 
emerged  from  that,  talking  gayly,  and  our  voices  almost 
drowned  by  the  dash  of  the  little  waterfall  and  the  echo 
from  the  opposite  rock,  I  sprang  across  the  curving 
track,  thinking  them  behind,  and  at  the  same  instant  a 
thunderous  roar  burst  all  about,  a  torrent  of  hot'  air 
whizzed  and  eddied  over  me,  I  fell  dizzied  and  stunned, 
and  the  night  express-train  shot  by  like  a  burning  arrow. 
Of  course  I  was  dreadfully  hurt  by  my  fall  and  fright,  — 
I  feel  the  shock  now,  —  the  blow,  the  stroke,  —  but  they 


40  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

all  stood  on  the  little  mound,  from  which  I  had  sprung, 
like  so  many  petrifactions :  Hose,  just  as  he  had  caught 
Louise  back  on  firmer  ground  when  she  was  about  to 
follow  me,  his  arm  wound  swiftly  round  her  waist,  yet 
his  head  thrust  forward  eagerly,  his  pale  face  and  glow 
ing  eyes  bent,  not  on  her,  but  me.  Still  he  never  stirred, 
and  poor  Mr.  Dudley  first  came  to  my  assistance.  We 
all  drew  breath  at  our  escape,  and,  a  little  slowly,  on  my 
account,  turned  homeward. 

"You  are  not  bruised,  Miss  Willoughby?"  asked 
Blarsaye,  wakened. 

"  Dear  Tone ! "  Lu  said,  leaving  Mr.  Dudley's  arm, 
"  you  're  so  very  pale  !  It 's  not  pain,  is  it  ?  " 

"I  am  not  conscious  of  any.  Why  should  I  be  in 
jured,  any  more  than  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Rose,  sotto  voce,  turning  and 
bending  merely  his  head  to  me,  "  I  thought  I  heard  you 
scream,  and  that  you  were  dead." 

"And  what  then?" 

"  Nothing,  but  that  you  were  lying  dead  and  torn,  and 
I  should  see  you,"  he  said,  —  and  said  as  if  he  liked  to 
say  it,  experiencing  a  kind  of  savage  delight  at  his 
ability  to  say  it. 

"  A  pity  to  have  disappointed  you  ! "  I  answered. 

"  I  saw  it  coming  before  you  leaped,"  he  added,  as  a 
malignant  finality,  and  drawing  nearer.  "You  were 
both  on  the  brink.  I  called,  but  probably  neither  you 
nor  Lu  heard  me.  So  I  snatched  her  back." 

Now  I  had  been  next  him  then. 

"  Jove's  balance,"  I  said,  taking  Parti's  arm. 

He  turned  instantly  to  Lu,  and  kept  by  her  during 
the  remainder  of  the  walk,  Mr.  Dudley  being  at  the 
other  side.  I  was  puzzled  a  little  by  Lu,  as  I  have 


THE  AMBEK  GODS.  41 

been  a  good  many  times  since ;  I  thought  she  liked  Rose 
so  much.  Papa  met  us  in  the  field,  and  there  the  affair 
must  be  detailed  to  him,  and  then  he  would  have  us  cele 
brate  our  safety  in  Champagne. 

"  Good  by,  Louise,"  said  Rose,  beside  her  at  the  gate, 
and  offering  his  hand,  somewhat  later.  "I'm  going 
away  to-morrow,  if  it 's  fine." 

"  Going  ?  "  with  involuntary  surprise. 

"  To  camp  out  in  Maine." 

"  Oh,  —  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  it." 

"  Would  you  stay  long,  Louise  ?  " 

"If  the  sketching-grounds  are  good." 

"When  I  come  back,  you'll  sing  my  songs?  Shake 
hands." 

She  just  laid  a  cold  touch  on  his. 

"  Louise,  are  you  offended  with  me  ?  " 

She  looked  up  with  so  much  simplicity.  "Offended, 
Rose,  with  you  ?  " 

"  Not  offended,  but  frozen,"  I  could  have  said.  Lu  is 
like  that  little  sensitive-plant,  shrinking  into  herself  with 
stiff  unconsciousness  at  a  certain  touch.  But  I  don't 
think  he  noticed  the  sad  tone  in  her  voice,  as  she  said 
good  night ;  I  did  n't,  till,  the  others  being  gone,  I  saw 
her  turn  after  his  disappearing  figure,  with  a  look  that 
would  have  been  despairing,  but  for  its  supplication. 

The  only  thing  Lu  ever  said  to  me  about  this  was,  — 

"  Don't  you  think  Rose  a  little  altered,  Tone,  since  he 
came  home  ?  " 

«  Altered  ?  " 

"  I  have  noticed  it  ever  since  you  showed  him  your 
beads,  that  day." 

"  Oh !  it 's  the  amber,"  I  said.  "  They  are  amulets,  and 
have  bound  him  in  a  thrall.  You  must  wear  them,  and 
dissolve  the  charm.  He 's  in  a  dream." 


42  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

"  What  is  it  to  be  in  a  dream  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  To  lose  thought  of  past  or  future." 
She  repeated  my  words,  — "  Yes,  he 's  in  a  dream," 
she  said  musingly. 

Rose  did  n't  come  near  us  for  a  fortnight ;  but  he  had 
not  camped  at  all,  as  he  said.  It  was  the  first  stone 
thrown  into  Lu's  life,  and  I  never  saw  any  one  keep  the 
ripples  under  so  ;  but  her  suspicions  were  aroused.  Fi 
nally  he  came  in  again,  all  as  before,  and  I  thought  things 
might  have  been  different,  if  in  that  fortnight  Mr.  Dudley 
had  not  been  so  assiduous: ;  and  now,  to  the  latter's  hap 
piness,  there  were  several  ragged  children  and  infirm  old 
women  in  whom,  Lu  having  taken  them  in  charge,  he 
chose  to  be  especially  interested.  Lu  always  was  house 
keeper,  both  because  it  had  fallen  to  her  while  mamma 
and  I  were  away,  and  because  she  had  an  administrative 
faculty  equal  to  General  Jackson's ;  and  Rose,  who  had 
frequently  gone  about  with  her,  inspecting  jellies  and  cor 
dials  and  adding  up  her  accounts,  now  unexpectedly 
found  Mr.  Dudley  so  near  his  former  place  that  he  dis 
dained  to  resume  it  himself;  —  not  entirely,  because  the 
man  of  course  could  n't  be  as  familiar  as  an  old  playmate ; 
but  just  enough  to  put  Rose  aside.  He  never  would 
compete  with  any  one ;  and  Lu  did  not  know  how  to 
repulse  the  other. 

If  the  amulets  had  ravished  Rose  from  himself,  they 
did  it  at  a  distance,  for  I  had  not  worn  them  since  that 
day.  —  You  need  n't  look.  Thales  imagined  amber  had  a 
spirit ;  and  Pliny  says  it  is  a  counter-charm  for  sorceries. 
There  are  a  great  many  mysterious  things  in  the  world. 
Are  n't  there  any  hidden  relations  between  us  and  certain 
substances  ?  Will  you  tell  me  something  impossible  ?  — 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  43 

But  he  came  and  went  about  Louise,  and  she  sung  his 
songs,  and  all  was  going  finely  again,  when  we  gave  our 
midsummer  party. 

Everybody  was  there,  of  course,  and  we  had  enraptur 
ing  music.  Louise  wore — no  matter  —  something  of  twi 
light  purple,  and  begged  for  the  amber,  since  it  was  too 
much  for  my  toilette,  —  a  double  India  muslin,  whose 
snowy  sheen  scintillated  with  festoons  of  gorgeous  green 
beetles'  wings  flaming  like  fiery  emeralds.  A  family 
dress,  my  dear,  and  worn  by  my  aunt  before  me,  —  only 
that  individual  must  have  been  frightened  out  of  her  wits 
by  it.  A  cruel,  savage  dress,  very  like,  but  ineffably 
gorgeous.  So  I  wore  her  aqua-marina,  though  the  other 
would  have  been  better ;  and  when  I  sailed  in,  with  all 
the  airy  folds  in  a  hoar-frost  mistiness  fluttering  round  me 
and  the  glitter  of  Lu's  jewels,  — 

"  Why ! "  said  Rose,  "  you  look  like  the  moon  in  a  halo." 

But  Lu  disliked  a  hostess  out-dressing  her  guests. 

It  was  dull  enough  till  quite  late,  and  then  I  stepped 
out  with  Mr.  Parti,  and  walked  up  and  down  a  garden- 
path.  Others  were  outside  as  well,  and  the  last  time  I 
passed  a  little  arbor  I  caught  a  yellow  gleam  of  amber. 
Lu,  of  course.  Who  was  with  her  ?  A  gentleman,  bend 
ing  low  to  catch  her  words,  holding  her  hand  in  an  irre 
sistible  pressure.  Not  Rose,  for  he  was  flitting  in  beyond. 
Mr.  Dudley.  And  I  saw  then  that  Lu's  kindness  was  too 
great  to  allow  her  to  repel  him  angrily  ;  her  gentle  con 
science  let  her  wound  no  one.  Had  Rose  seen  the  panto 
mime  ?  Without  doubt.  He  had  been  seeking  her,  and 
he  found  her,  he  thought,  in  Mr.  Dudley's  arms.  After 
a  while  we  went  in,  and,  finding  all  smooth  enough,  I 
slipped  through  the  balcony-window  and  hung  over  the 
balustrade,  glad  to  be  alone  a  moment.  The  wind,  blow- 


44  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

ing  in,  carried  the  gay  sounds  away  from  me,  even  the 
music  came  richly  muffled  through  the  heavy  curtains, 
and  I  wished  to  breathe  balm  and  calm.  The  moon, 
round  and  full,  was  just  rising,  making  the  gloom  below 
more  sweet.  A  full  moon  is  poison  to  some ;  they  shut 
it  out  at  every  crevice,  and  do  not  suffer  a  ray  to  cross 
them ;  it  has  a  chemical  or  magnetic  effect ;  it  sickens 
them.  But  I  am  never  more  free  and  royal  than  when 
the  subtile  celerity  of  its  magic  .combinations,  whatever 
they  are,  is  at  work.  Never  had  I  known  the  mere  joy 
of  being,  so  intimately  as  to-night.  The  river  slept  soft 
and  mystic  below  the  woods,  the  sky  was  full  of  light,  the 
air  ripe  with  summer.  Out  of  the  yellow  honeysuckles 
that  climbed  around,  clouds  of  delicious  fragrance  stole 
and  swathed  me ;  long  wafts  of  faint  harmony  gently 
thrilled  me.  Dewy  and  dark  and  uncertain  was  all  be 
yond.  I,  possessed  with  a  joyousness  so  deep  through  its 
contented  languor  as  to  counterfeit  serenity,  forgot  all  my 
wealth  of  nature,  my  pomp  of  beauty,  abandoned  myself 
to  the  hour. 

A  strain  of  melancholy  dance-music  pierced  the  air  and 
fell.  I  half  turned  my  head,  and  my  eyes  met  Rose.  He 
had  been  there  before  me,  perhaps.  •  His  face  white  and 
shining  in  the  light,  shining  with  a  strange  sweet  smile 
of  relief,  of  satisfaction,  of  delight,  his  lips  quivering  with 
unspoken  words,  his  eyes  dusky  with  depth  after  depth 
of  passion.  How  long  did  my  eyes  swim  on  his  ?  I  can 
not  tell.  He  never  stirred  ;  still  leaned  there  against  the 
pillar,  still  looked  down  on  me  like  a  marble  god.  The 
sudden  tears  dazzled  my  gaze,  fell  down  my  hot  cheek, 
and  still  I  knelt  fascinated  by  that  smile.  In  that  moment 
I  felt  that  he  was  more  beautiful  than  the  night,  than 
the  music,  than  I.  Then  I  knew  that  all  this  time,  all 


THE  AMBER   GODS.  45 

summer,  all  past  summers,  all  my  life  long,  I  had  loved 
him. 

Some  one  was  waiting  to  make  his  adieux  ;  I  heard  my 
father  seeking  me ;  I  parted  the  curtains  and  went  in. 
One  after  one  those  tedious  people  left,  the  lights  grew 
dim,  and  still  he  stayed  without.  I  ran  to  the  window, 
and,  lifting  the  curtain,  I  bent  forward,  crying,  — 

"  Mr.  Rose  !  do  you  spend  the  night  on  the  balcony  ?  " 

Then  he  moved,  stepped  down,  murmured  something 
to  my  father,  bowed  loftily  to  Louise,  passed  me  without 
a  sign,  and  went  out.  In  a  moment,  Lu's  voice,  a  quick 
sharp  exclamation,  touched  him ;  he  turned,  came  back. 
She,  wondering  at  him,  had  stood  toying  with  the  amber, 
and  at  last  crushing  the  miracle  of  the  whole,  a  bell-wort 
wrought  most  delicately  with  all  the  dusty  pollen  grained 
upon  its  anthers,  crushing  it  between  her  fingers,  break 
ing  the  thread,  and  scattering  the  beads  upon  the  carpet. 
He  stooped  with  her  to  gather'  them  again,  he  took  from 
her  hand  and  restored  to  her  afterward  the  shattered  frag 
ments  of  the  bell-wort,  he  helped  her  disentangle  the 
aromatic  string  from  her  falling  braids,  —  for  I  kept 
apart,  —  he  breathed  the  penetrating  incense  of  each  sep 
arate  amulet,  and  I  saw  that  from  that  hour,  when  every 
atom  of  his  sensation  was  tense  and  vibrating,  she  would 
be  associated  with  the  loathed  amber  in  his  undefined  con 
sciousness,  would  be  surrounded  with  an  atmosphere  of 
its  perfume,  that  Lu  was  truly  sealed  from  him  in  it, 
sealed  "into  herself.  Then  again,  saying  no  word,  he  went 
out. 

Louise  stood  like  one  lost,  —  took  aimlessly  a  few 
steps,  —  retraced  them,  —  approached  a  table,  —  touched 
something,  —  left  it. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  about  your  beads  !  "  she  said,  apologeti- 


46  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

cally,  —  when  she  looked  up  and  saw  me  astonished,  — 
putting  the  broken  pieces  into  my  hand. 

"  Goodness  !  Is  that  what  you  are  fluttering  about  so 
for  ?  " 

"  They  can't  be  mended,"  she  continued,  "  but  I  will 
thread  them  again." 

"  I  don't  care  about  them,  I  'm  sick  of  amber,"  I  an 
swered  consolingly.  "  You  may  have  them,  if  you  will." 

"  No.  I  must  pay  too  great  a  price  for  them,"  she  re 
plied. 

"  Nonsense  !  when  they  break  again,  I  '11  pay  you 
back,"  I  said,  without  in  the  least  knowing  what  she 
meant.  "  I  did  n't  suppose  you  were  too  proud  for  a 
<  thank  you  ' !  " 

She  came  and  put  both  her  arms  round  my  neck,  laid 
her  cheek  beside  mine  a  minute,  kissed  me,  and  went 
up  stairs.  Lu  always  rather  worshipped  me. 

Dressing  my  hair  that  night,  Carmine,  my  maid,  begged 
for  the  remnants  of  the  bell-wort  to  "  make  a  scent-bag 
with,  Miss." 

Next  day,  no  Rose ;  it  rained.  But  at  night  he  came 
and  took  possession  of  the  room,  with  a  strange,  airy 
gayety  never  seen  in  him  before.  It  was  so  chilly,  that  I 
had  heaped  the  wood-boughs,  used  in  the  yesterday's 
decorations,  on  the  hearth,  and  lighted  a  fragrant  crack 
ling  flame  that  danced  up  wildly  at  my  touch,  —  for  I 
have  the  faculty  of  fire.  I  sat  at  one  side,  Lu  at  the  ' 
other,  papa  was  holding  a  skein  of  silk  for  her  to  wind, 
the  amber  beads  were  twinkling  in  the  firelight,  —  and 
when  she  slipped  them  slowly  on  the  thread,  bead  after 
bead  warmed  through  and  through  by  the  real  blaze,  they 
crowded  the  room  afresh  with  their  pungent  spiciness. 
Papa  had  called  Rose  to  take  his  place  at  the  other  end 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  47 

of  the  silk,  and  had  gone  out ;  and  when  Lu  finished, 
she  fastened  the  ends,  cut  the  thread,  Rose  likening  her 
to  Atropos,  and  put  them  back  into  her  basket.  Still 
playing  with  the  scissors,  following  down  the  lines  of  her 
hand,  a  little  snap  was  heard. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Louise,  "  I  have  broken  my  ring  !  " 

"  Can't  it  be  repaired  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  she  returned  briefly,  but  pleasantly,  and  threw 
the  pieces  into  the  fire. 

"  The  hand  must  not  be  ringless,"  said  Rose ;  and 
slipping  off  the  ring  of  hers  that  he  wore,  he  dropped  it 
on  the  amber,  then  got  up  and  threw  an  armful  of  fresh 
boughs  upon  the  blaze. 

So  that  was  all  done.  Then  Rose  was  gayer  than 
before.  He  is  one  of  those  people  to  whom  you  must 
allow  moods,  —  when  their  sun  shines,  dance,  —  and  when 
their  vapors  rise,  sit  in  the  shadow.  Every  variation  of 
the  atmosphere  affects  him,  though  by  no  means  uni 
formly  ;  and  so  sensitive  is  he,  that,  when  connected  with 
you  by  any  intimate  rapport,  even  if  but  momentary,  he 
almost  divines  your  thoughts.  He  is  full  of  perpetual 
surprises.  I  am  sure  he  was  a  nightingale  before  he  was 
Rose.  An  iridescence  like  sea-foam  sparkled  in  him  that 
evening,  he  laughed  as  lightly  as  the  little  tinkling  mass- 
bells  at  every  moment,  and  seemed  to  diffuse  a  rosy  glow 
wherever  he  went  in  the  room.  Yet  gayety  was  not  his 
peculiar  specialty,  and  at  length  he  sat  before  the  fire, 
and,  taking  Lu's  scissors,  commenced  cutting  bits  of  paper 
in  profiles.  Somehow  they  all  looked  strangely  like  and 
unlike  Mr.  Dudley.  I  pointed  one  out  to  Lu,  and  if  he 
had  needed  confirmation,  her  changing  color  gave  it  He 
only  glanced  at  her  askance,  and  then  broke  into  the  mer 
riest  description  of  his  life  in  Rome,  of  which  he  declared 


48  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

he  had  not  spoken  to  us  yet,  talking  fast  and  laughing  as 
gleefully  as  a  child,  and  illustrating  people  and  localities 
with  scissors  and  paper  as  he  went  on,  a  couple  of  careless 
snips  putting  a  whole  scene  before  us. 

The  floor  was  well  strewn  with  such  chips,  —  fountains, 
statues,  baths,  and  all  the  persons  of  his  little  drama,  — 
when  papa  came  in.  He  held  an  open  letter,  and,  sitting 
down,  read  it  over  again.  Rose  fell  into  silence,  clipping 
the  scissors  daintily  in  and  out  the  white  sheet  through 
twinkling  intricacies.  As  the  design  dropped  out,  I 
caught  it,  —  a  long  wreath  of  honeysuckle-blossoms.  Ah, 
I  knew  where  the  honeysuckles  grew  !  Lu  was  hum 
ming  a  little  tune.  Rose  joined,  and  hummed  the  last 
bars,  then  bade  us  good-night. 

"  Yone,"  said  papa,  "  your  Aunt  Willoughby  is  very 
ill,  —  will  not  recover.  She  is  my  elder  brother's  widow ; 
you  are  her  heir.  You  must  go  and  stay  with  her." 

Now  it  was  very  likely  that  just  at  this  time  I  was 
going  away  to  nurse  Aunt  Willoughby !  Moreover,  ill 
ness  is  my  very  antipodes,  —  its  nearness  is  invasion,  — 
we  are  utterly  antipathetic,  —  it  disgusts  and  repels  me. 
What  sympathy  can  there  be  between  my  florid  health, 
my  rank  redundant  life,  and  any  wasting  disease  of 
death  ?  What  more  hostile  than  focal  concentration  and 
obscure  decomposition  ?  You  see,  we  cannot  breathe  the 
same  atmosphere.  I  banish  the  thought  of  such  a  thing 
from  my  feeling,  from  my  memory.  So  I  said,  — 

"It's  impossible.  I'm  not  going  an  inch  to  Aunt  Wil- 
loughby's.  Why,  papa,  it 's  more  than  a  hundred  miles, 
and  in  this  weather !  " 

"  Oh,  the  wind  has  changed." 

"  Then  it  will  be  too  warm  for  such  a  journey." 

"  A  new  idea,  Yone !     Too  warm  for  the  mountains  ?  " 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  49 

"  Yes,  papa.     I  'm  not  going  a  step." 

«  Why,  Tone,  you  astonish  me !     Your  sick  aunt ! " 

"That's  the  very  thing.  If  she  were  well,  I  might,  — 
perhaps.  Sick  !  What  can  I  do  for  her  ?  I  never  go  into 
a  sick-room.  I  hate  it.  I  don't  know  how  to  do  a  thing 
there.  Don't  say  another  word,  papa.  I  can't  go." 

"  It  is  out  of  the  question  to  let  it  pass  so,  my  dear. 
Here  you  are  nursing  all  the  invalids  in  town,  yet  —  " 

"  Indeed,  I  'm  not,  papa.  I  don't  know  and  don't  care 
whether  they  're  dead  or  alive." 

"Well,  then,  it's  Lu." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she 's  hospital  agent  for  half  the  country." 

"  Then  it  is  time  that  you  also  got  a  little  experience." 

"  Don't,  papa !  I  don't  want  it.  I  never  saw  anybody 
die,  and  I  never  mean  to." 

"  Can't  I  do  as  well,  uncle  ?  "  asked  Lu. 

"  You,  darling  ?     Yes  ;  but  it  is  n't  your  duty." 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,"  she  said,  "  you  would  rather  Yone 
went." 

"  So  I  would." 

"  Dear  papa,  don't  vex  me  !    Ask  anything  else ! " 

"  It  is  so  unpleasant  to  Yone,"  Lu  murmured,  "  that 
maybe  I  had  better  go.  And  if  you  've  no  objection,  sir, 
I  '11  take  the  early  train  to-morrow." 

Was  n't  she  an  angel  ? 

Lu  was  away  a  month.  Rose  came  in,  expressing  his 
surprise.  ~  I  said,  "  Othello's  occupation 's  gone  ?  " 

"  And  left  him  room  for  pleasure  now,"  he  retorted. 

"  Which  means  seclusion  from  the  world,  in  the  society 
of  lakes  and  chromes." 

"  Miss  Willoughby,"  said  he,  turning  and  looking  di 
rectly  past  me,  "  may  I  paint  you  ?  " 


50  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

"Me?    Oh,  you  can't." 

«  No  ;  but  may  I  try  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  go  to  you." 

"  I  will  come  to  you." 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  will  be  like  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  of  course.     It  is  to  be,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  've  no  more  right  than  any  other  piece  of  Na 
ture  to  refuse  an  artist  a  study  in  color." 

He  faced  about,  half  pouting,  as  if  he  would  go  out, 
then  returned  and  fixed  the  time. 

So  he  painted.  He  generally  put  me  into  a  broad  beam 
that  slanted  from  the  top  of  the  veiled  window,  and  day 
after  day  he  worked.  Ah,  what  glorious  days  they  were  ! 
how  gay!  how  full  of  life!  I  almost  feared  to  let  him 
image  me  on  canvas,  do  you  know  ?  I  had  a  fancy  it 
would  lay  my  soul  so  bare  to  his  inspection.  What  se 
crets  might  be  searched,  what  depths  fathomed,  at  such 
times,  if  men  knew  !  I  feared  lest  he  should  see  me  as  I 
am,  in  those  great  masses  of  warm  light  lying  before  him, 
as  I  feared  he  saw  when  he  said  amber  harmonized  with 
me,  —  all  being  things  not  polarized,  not  organized,  with 
out  centre,  so  to  speak.  But  it  escaped  him,  and  he 
wrought  on.  Did  he  succeed  ?  Bless  you  !  he  might  as 
well  have  painted  the  sun  ;  and  who  could  do  that  ?  No  ; 
but  shades  and  combinations  that  he  had  hardly  touched 
or  known,  before,  he  had  to  lavish  now ;  He  learned 
more  than  some  years  might  have  taught  him ;  he,  who 
worshipped  beauty,  saw  how  thoroughly  I  possessed  it ; 
he  has  told  me  that  through  me  he  learned  the  sacredness 
of  color.  "  Since  he  loves  beauty  so,  why  does  he  not  love 
me  ?  "  I  asked  myself;  and  perhaps  the  feverish  hope  and 
suspense  only  lit  up  that  beauty  and  fed  it  with  fresh  fires. 
Ah,  the  July  days !  Did  you  ever  wander  over  barren, 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  51 

parched  stubble-fields,  and  suddenly  front  a  knot  of  red 
Turk's-cap  lilies,  flaring  as  if  they  had  drawn  all  the  heat 
and  brilliance  from  the  land  into  their  tissues  ?  Such 
were  they.  And  if  I  were  to  grow  old  and  gray,  they 
would  light  down  all  my  life,  and  I  could  be  willing  to  lead 
a  dull,  grave  age,  looking  back  and  remembering  them, 
warming  myself  forever  in  their  constant  youth.  If  I  had 
nothing  to  hope,  they  would  become  my  whole  existence^. 
Think,  then,  what  it  will  be  to  have  all  days  like  those ! 

He  never  satisfied  himself,  as  he  might  have  done,  had 
he  known  me  better,  —  and  he  never  shall  know  me !  — 
and  used  to  look  at  me  for  the  secret  of  his  failure,  till  I 
laughed ;  then  the  look  grew  wistful,  grew  enamored. 
By  and  by  we  left  the  pictures.  We  went  into  the 
woods,  warm  dry  woods ;  we  stayed  there  from  morning 
till  night.  In  the  burning  noons,  we  hung  suspended 
between  two  heavens,  in  our  boat  on  glassy  forest-pools, 
where  now  and  then  a  shoal  of  white  lilies  rose  and 
crowded  out  the  under-sky.  Sunsets  burst  like  bubbles 
over  us.  When  the  hidden  thrushes  were  breaking  one's 
heart  with  music,  and  the  sweet  fern  sent  up  a  tropical 
fragrance  beneath  our  crushing  steps,  we  came  home  to 
rooms  full  of  guests  and  my  father's  genial  warmth. 
What  a  month  it  was! 

One  day  papa  went  up  into  New  Hampshire ;  Aunt 
Willoughby  was  dead ;  and  one  day  Lu  came  home. 

She  was  very  pale  and  thin.  Her  eyes  were  hollow 
and  purple. 

"There  is  some  mistake,  Lu,"  I  said.  "It  is  you 
who  are  dead,  instead  of  Aunt  Willoughby." 

"  Do  I  look  so  wretchedly  ? "  she  asked,  glancing  at 
the  mirror. 

"  Dreadfully !     Is  it  all  watching  and  grief?  " 


52  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

"  Watching  and  grief,"  said  Lu. 

How  melancholy  her  smile  was!  She  would  have 
crazed  me  in  a  little  while,  if  I  had  minded  her. 

"Did  you  care  so  much  for  fretful,  crabbed  Aunt 
Willoughby?" 

"  She  was  very  kind  to  me,"  Lu  replied. 

There  was  an  odd  air  with  her  that  day.  She  did  n't 
go  at  once  and  get  off  her  travelling-dress,  but  trifled 
about  in  a  kind  of  expectancy,  a  little  fever  going  and 
coming  in  her  cheeks,  and  turning  at  any  noise. 

Will  you  believe  it  ?  —  though  I  knew  Lu  had  refused 
to  marry  him,  —  who  met  her  at  the  half-way  junction, 
saw  about  her  luggage,  and  drove  home  with  her,  but 
Mr.  Dudley,  and  was  with  us,  a  half-hour  afterward, 
when  Rose  came  in  ?  Lu  did  n't  turn  at  his  step,  but 
the  little  fever  in  her  face  prevented  his  seeing  her  as  I 
had  done.  He  shook  hands  with  her  and  asked  after  her 
health,  and  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Dudley  (who  hadn't 
been  near  us  during  her  absence),  and  seemed  to  wish 
she  should  feel  that  he  recognized  without  pain  a  con 
nection  between  herself  and  that  personage.  But  when 
he  came  back  to  me,  I  was  perplexed  again  at  that 
bewitched  look  in  his  face,  —  as  if  Lu's  presence  made 
him  feel  that  he  was  in  a  dream,  I  the  enchantress  of 
that  dream.  It  did  not  last  long,  though.  And  soon 
she  saw  Mr.  Dudley  out,  and  went  up-stairs. 

When  Lu  came  down  to  the  table,  she  had  my  beads 
in  her  hand  again. 

"I  went  into  your  room  and  got  them,  dear  Tone," 
she  said,  "because  I  have  found  something  to  replace 
the  broken  bell- wort,"  and  she  showed  us  a  little  amber 
bee,  black  and  golden.  "  Not  so  lovely  as  the  bell- 
wort,"  she  resumed,  "and  I  must  pierce  it  for  the  thread; 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  53 

but  it  will  fill  the  number.  Was  I  not  fortunate  to 
find  it?" 

But  when  at  a  flame  she  heated  a  long  slender  needle 
to  pierce  it,  the  little  winged  wonder  shivered  between 
her  fingers,  and  under  the  hot  steel  filled  the  room  with 
the  honeyed  smell  of  its  dusted  substance. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  I  again.  "  It 's  a  shame,  though,  — 
it  was  so  much  prettier  than  the  bell-wort !  We  might 
have  known  it  was  too  brittle.  It 's  just  as  well,  Lu." 

The  room  smelt  like  a  chancel  at  vespers.  Rose 
sauntered  to  the  window,  and  so  down  the  garden,  and 
then  home. 

"  Yes.  It  cannot  be  helped,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  But  I  really  counted  upon  seeing  it  on  the  string. 
I  'm  not  lucky  at  amber.  You  know  little  Asian  said  it 
would -bring  bane  to  the  bearer." 

"  Dear !  dear !  I  had  quite  forgotten ! "  I  exclaimed. 
"  O  Lu,  keep  it,  or  give  it  away,  or  something !  I  don't 
want  it  any  longer." 

"  You  're  very  vehement,"  she  said,  laughing  now.  "  I 
am  not  afraid  of  your  gods.  Shall  I  wear  them  ?  " 

So  the  r,est  of  the  summer  Lu  twined  them  round 
her  throat,  —  amulets  of  sorcery,  orbs  of  separation ;  but 
one  night  she  brought  them  back  to  me.  That  was  last 
night.  There  they  lie. 

The  next  day,  in  the  high  golden  noon,  Rose  came.  I 
was  on  the  lounge  in  the  alcove  parlor,  my  hair  half 
streaming  out  of  Lu's  net ;  but  he  did  n't  mind.  The  light 
was  toned  and  mellow,  the  air  soft  and  cool.  He  came 
and  sat  on  the  opposite  side,  so  that  he  faced  the  wall 
table  with  its  dish  of  white,  stiflingly  sweet  lilies,  while 
I  looked  down  the  drawing-room.  He  had  brought  a 
book,  and  by  and  by  opened  at  the  part  commencing, 


54  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

"  Do  not  die,  Phene."  He  read  it  through,  —  all  that 
perfect,  perfect  scene.  From  the  moment  when  he  said, 

"  I  overlean 

This  length  of  hair  and  lustrous  front  —  they  turn 
Like  an  entire  flower  upward,"  — 

his  voice  low,  sustained,  clear,  —  till  he  reached  the  line, 

"  Look  at  the  woman  here  with  the  new  soul,"  — 
till  he  turned  the  leaf  and  murmured, 

"  Shall  to  produce  form  out  of  unshaped  stuff 
Be  art,  —  and,  further,  to  evoke  a  soul 
From  form,  be  nothing?    This  new  soul  is  mine !  "  — 

till  then,  he  never  glanced  up.  Now,  with  a  proud  grace, 
he  raised  his  head,  —  not  to  look  at  me,  but  across  me, 
at  the  lilies,  to  satiate  himself  with  their  odorous  snowi- 
ness.  When  he  again  pronounced  words,  his  voice  was 
husky  and  vibrant;  but  what  music  dwelt  in  it  and 
seemed  to  prolong  rather  than  break  the  silver  silence, 
as  he  echoed, 

"  Some  unsuspected  isle  in  the  far  seas  " ! 

How  many  read,  to  descend  to  a  prosaic  life !.  how  few  to 
meet  one  as  rich  and  full  beside  them  !  The  tone  grew 
ever  lower ;  he  looked  up  slowly,  fastening  his  glance  on 
mine. 

"  And  you  are  ever  by  me  while  I  gaze,  — 
Are  in  my  arms  as  now  —  as  now  —  as  now !  " 

he  said.  He  swayed  forward  with  those  wild  questioning 
eyes,  —  his  breath  blew  over  my  cheek  ;  I  was  drawn,  — 
I  bent;  the  full  passion  of  his  soul  broke  to  being, 
wrapped  me  with  a  blinding  light,  a  glowing  kiss  on  lin 
gering  lips,  a  clasp  strong  and  tender  as  heaven.  All 
my  hair  fell  down  like  a  shining  cloud  and  veiled  us,  the 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  55 

great  rolling  folds  in  wave  after  wave  of  crisp  splendor. 
I  drew  back  from  that  long,  silent  kiss,  I  gathered  up 
each  gold  thread  of  the  straying  tresses,  blushing,  defiant. 
He  also,  he  drew  back.  But  I  knew  all  then.  I  had  no 
need  to  wait  longer;  I  had  achieved.  Rose  loved  me. 
Rose  had  loved  me  from  that  first  day.  —  You  scarcely 
hear  what  I  say,  I  talk  so  low  and  fast  ?  Well,  no  mat 
ter,  dear,  you  would  n't  care.  —  For  a  moment  that  gaze 
continued,  then  the  lids  fell,  the  face  grew  utterly  white. 
He  rose,  flung  the  book,  crushed  and  torn,  upon  the  floor, 
went  out,  speaking  no  word  to  me,  nor  greeting  Louise 
in  the  next  room.  Could  he  have  seen  her?  No.  I, 
only,  had  that.  For,  as  I  drew  from  his  arm,  a  meteoric 
crimson,  shooting  across  the  pale  face  bent  over  work 
there,  flashed  upon  me,  and  then  a  few  great  tears,  like 
sudden  thunder-drops,  falling  slowly  and  wetting  the 
heavy  fingers.  The  long  mirror  opposite  her  reflected 
the  interior  of  the  alcove  parlor.  No,  —  he  could  not 
have  seen,  he  must  have  felt  her. 

I  wonder  whether  I  should  have  cared,  if  I  had  never 
met  him  any  more,  —  happy  in  this  new  consciousness. 
But  in  the  afternoon  he  returned,  bright  and  eager. 

"  Are  you  so  very  busy,  dear  Tone,"  he  said,  without 
noticing  Lu,  "  that  you  cannot  drive  with  me  to-day  ?  " 

Busy !  In  five  minutes  I  whirled  down  the  avenue 
beside  him.  I  had  not  been  Yone  to  him  before.  How 
quiet  we  were  !  he  driving*  on,  bent  forward,  seeing  out 
and  away  ;  I  leaning  back,  my  eyes  closed,  and,  whenever 
a  remembrance  of  that  instant  at  noon  thrilled  me,  a  sting 
ing  blush  staining  my  cheek.  I,  who  had  believed  myself 
incapable  of  love,  till  that  night  on  the  balcony,  felt  its 
floods  welling  from  my  spirit,  —  who  had  believed  myself 
so  completely  cold,  was  warm  to  my  heart's  core.  Again 


56  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

that  breath  fanned  me,  those  lips  touched  mine,  lightly, 
quickly. 

"  Tone,  my  Yone  ! "  he  said.  "  Is  it  true  ?  No  dream 
within  dream  ?  Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

Wistful,  longing,  tender  eyes. 

"  Do  I  love  you  ?     I  would  die  for  you ! " 

Ah,  me  !  If  the  July  days  were  such,  how  perfect  were 
the  August  and  September  nights !  their  young  moon's 
lingering  twilight,  their  full  broad  bays  of  silver,  their  in- 
terlunar  season!  The  winds  were  warm  about  us,  the 
whole  earth  seemed  the  wealthier  for  our  love.  We 
almost  lived  upon  the  river,  he  and  I  alone,  —  floating 
seaward,  swimming  slowly  up  with  late  tides,  reaching 
home  drenched  with  dew,  parting  in  passionate  silence. 
Once  he  said  to  me,  — 

"  Is  it  because  it  is  so  much  larger,  more  strange  and 
beautiful,  than  any  other  love  could  be,  that  I  feel  guilty, 
Yone,  —  feel  as  if  I  sinned  in  loving  you  so,  my  great 
white  flower  ?  " 

I  ought  to  tell  you  how  splendid  papa  was,  never  seemed 
to  consider  that  Rose  had  only  his  art,  said  I  had  enough 
from  Aunt  Willoughby  for  both,  we  should  live  up  there 
among  the  mountains,  and  set  off  at  once  to  make  arrange 
ments.  Lu  has  a  wonderful  tact,  too,  —  seeing  at  once 
where  her  path  lay.  She  is  always  so  well  oriented ! 
How  full  of  peace  and  bliss  these  two  months  have  been ! 
Last  night  Lu  came  in  here.  She  brought  back  my  am 
ber  gods,  saying  she  had  not  intended  to  keep  them,  and 
yet  loitering. 

"  Yone,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  if  you 
love  him."  " 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  57 

Now,  as  if  that  were  any  affair  of  hers !  I  looked  what 
I  thought. 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  she  pleaded.  "  You  and  I  have 
been  sisters,  have  we  not  ?  and  always  shall  be.  I  love 
you  very  much,  dear,  —  more  than  you  may  believe  ;  I 
only  want  to  know  if  you  will  make  him  happy." 

"  That 's  according,"  said  I,  with  a  yawn. 

She  still  stood  before  me.  Her  eyes  said,  "  I  have  a 
right,  —  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

"You  want  me  to  say  how  much  I  love  Vaughan 
Rose  ?  "  I  asked,  finally.  "  Well,  listen,  Lu,  —  so  much, 
that,  when  he  forgets  me,  —  and  he  will,  Lu,  one  day,  — 
I  shall  die." 

"  Prevent  his  forgetting  you,  Yone ! "  she  returned. 
"  Make  your  soul  white  and  clear,  like  his." 

"  No  !  no  ! "  I  answered.  "  He  loves  me  as  I  am.  I 
will  never  change." 

Then  somehow  tears  began  to  come.  I  did  n't  want  to 
cry ;  I  had  to  crowd  them  baisk  behind  my  fingers  and 
shut  lids. 

"  Oh,  Lu  !  "  I  said,  "  I  cannot  think  what  it  would  be  to 
live,  and  he  not  a  part  of  me  !  not  for  either  of  as  to  be 
in  the  world  without  the  other  !  " 

Then  Lu's  tears  fell  with  mine,  as  she  drew  her  fingers 
over  my  hair.  She  said  she  was  happy,  too  ;  and  to-day 
has  been  down  and  gathered  every  one,  so  that,  when  you 
see  her,  her  white  array  will  be  wreathed  with  purple 
heart's-ease.  But  I  did  n't  tell  Lu  quite  the  truth,  you 
must  know.  I  don't  think  I  should  die,  except  to  my 
former  self,  if  Rose  ceased  to  love  me.  I  should  change. 
Oh,  I  should  hate  him !  Hate  is  as  intense  as  love. 

Bless  me !  What  time  can  it  be  ?  There  are  papa  and 
Rose  walking  in  the  garden.  I  turned  out  my  maid  to 


58  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

find  chance  for  all  this  talk ;  I  must  ring  for  her.  There, 
there  's  my  hair !  silken  coil  after  coil,  full  of  broken 
lights,  rippling  below  the  knees,  fine  and  fragrant.  Who 
could  have  such  hair  but  I  ?  I  am  the  last  of  the  Wil- 
loughbys,  a  decayed  race,  and  from  such  strong  decay 
what  blossom  less  gorgeous  should  spring  ? 

October  now.  All  the  world  swings  at  the  top  of  its 
beauty ;  and  those  hills  where  we  shall  live,  what  robes 
of  color  fold  them !  Tawny  filemot  gilding  the  valleys, 
each  seam  and  rut  a  scroll  or  arabesque,  and  all  the  year 
pouring  out  her  heart's  blood  to  flush  the  maples,  the 
great  empurpled  granites  warm  with  the  sunshine  they 
have  drunk  all  summer !  So  I  am  to  be  married  to-day, 
at  noon.  I  like  it  best  so ;  it  is  my  hour.  There  is  my 
veil,  that  regal  Venice  point.  Fling  it  round  you.  No, 
you  would  look  like  a  ghost  in  one,  —  Lu  like  a  corpse. 
Dear  me !  That 's  the  second  time  I  've  rung  for  Carmine. 
I  dare  say  the  hussy  is  trying  on  my  gown.  You  think 
it  strange  I  don't  delay  ?  Why,  child,  why  tempt  Provi 
dence  ?  Once  mine,  always  mine.  He  might  wake  up. 
No,  no,  I  could  n't  have  meant  that !  It  is  not  possible 
that  I  have  merely  led  him  into  a  region  of  richer  dyes, 
lapped  him  in  this  vision  of  color,  kindlecThis  heart  to  such 
a  flame,  that  it  may  light  him  towards  further  effort.  Can 
you  believe  that  he  will  slip  from  me  and  return  to  one  in 
better  harmony  with  him  ?  Is  any  one  ?  Will  he  ever 
find  himself  with  that  love  lost,  this  love  exhausted,  only 
his  art  left  him  ?  Never  !  /  am  his  crown.  See  me  ! 
how  singularly,  gloriously  beautiful !  For  him  only  !  all 
for  him  !  I  love  him  !  I  cannot,  I  will  not  lose  him  !  I 
defy  all !  My  heart's  proud  pulse  assures  me !  I  defy 
Fate !  Hush One,  —  two,  —  twelve  o'clock.  Car 
mine  ! 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  59 


LAST. 
ASTRA  CASTRA,  NUMEN  LUMEN. 

'TiiE  click  of  her  needles  and  the  soft  singing  of  the 
night-lamp  are  the  only  sounds  breaking  the  stillness,  the 
awful  stillness,  of  this  room.  How  the  wind  blows  with 
out  !  it  must  be  whirling  white  gusty  drifts  through  the 
split  hills.  If  I  were  as  free  !  Whistling  round  the  gray 
gable,  tearing  the  bleak  boughs,  crying  faint  hoarse  moans 
down  the  chimneys  !  A  wild,  sad  gale  !  There  is  a  lull,  a 
long  breathless  lull,  before  it  soughs  up  again.  Oh,  it  is 
like  a  pain  !  Pain  !  Why  do  I  think  the  word  ?  Must 
I  suffer  any  more  ?  Am  I  crazed  with  opiates  ?  or  am  I 
dying  ?  They  are  in  that  drawer,  —  laudanum,  morphine, 
hyoscyamus,  and  all  the  drowsy  sirups,  —  little  drops,  but 
soaring  like  a  fog  and  wrapping  the  whole  world  in  a  dull 
ache  with  no  salient  sting  to  catch  a  groan  on.  They  are 
so  small,  they  might  be  lost  in  this  long,  dark  room  ;  why 
not  the  pain  too,  the  point  of  pain,  I?  A  long,  dark 
room  ;  I  at  one  end,  she  at  the  other  ;  the  curtains  drawn 
away  from  me  that  I  may  breathe.  Ah,  I  have  been 
stifled  so  long!  They  look  down  on  me,  all  those  old 
dead  and  gone  faces,  those  portraits  on  the  wall,  —  look 
all  from  their  frames  at  me,  the  last  term  of  the  race,  the 
vanishing  summit  of  their  design.  A  fierce  weapon  thrust 
into  the  world  for  evil  has  that  race  been,  —  from  the  great 
gray  Willoughby,  threatening  with  his  iron  eyes  there,  to 
me,  the  sharp  apex  of  its  suffering.  A  fierce,  glittering 
blade  !  Why  I  alone  singled  for  this  curse  ?  Rank  blos 
som,  rank  decay,  they  answer,  but  falsely.  I  lie  here, 
through  no  fault  of  mine,  blasted  by  disease,  the  dread 


60  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

with  no  relief.  A  hundred  ancestors  look  from  my  walls 
and  see  in  me  the  centre  of  their  lives,  of  all  their  little 
splendor,  of  their  sins  and  follies ;  what  slept  in  them 
wakes  in  me.  Oh,  let  me  sleep  too ! 

How  long  could  I  live  and  lose  nothing  ?  I  saw  my 
face  in  the  hand-glass  this  morning,  —  more  lovely  than 
health  fashioned  it ;  —  transparent  skin,  bounding  blood 
with  its  fire  burning  behind  the  eye,  on  cheek,  on  lip,  — 
a  beauty  that  every  pang  has  aggravated,  heightened, 
sharpened,  to  a  superb  intensity,  flushing,  rapid,  unearth 
ly, —  a  brilliancy  to  be  dreamed  of.  Like  a  great  autumn 
leaf  I  fall,  for  I  am  dying,  —  dying !  Yes,  death  finds  me 
more  beautiful  than  life  made  me ;  but  have  I  lost  nothing  ? 
Great  Heaven,  I  have  lost  all ! 

A  fancy  comes  to  me,  that  to-day  was  my  birthday. 
I  have  forgotten  to  mark  time ;  but  if  it  was,  I  am  thirty- 
two  years  old.  I  remember  birthdays  of  a  child,  —  lov 
ing,  cordial  days.  No  one  remembers  to-day.  Why 
should  they  ?  But  I  ache  for  a  little  love.  Thirty-two, 
—  that  is  young  to  die!  I  am  too  fair,  too  rich,  for 
death !  —  not  his  fit  spoil !  Is  there  no  one  to  save  me  ? 
no  help  ?  can  I  not  escape  ?  Ah,  what  a  vain  eager 
ness  !  what  an  idle  hope  !  Fall  back  again,  heart !  Es 
cape  ?  I  do  not  desire  to.  Come,  come,  kind  rest !  I 
am  tired. 

That  cap-string  has  loosened  now,  and  all-  this  golden 
cataract  of  hair  has  rushed  out  over  the  piled  pillows.  It 
oppresses  and  terrifies  me.  If  I  could  speak,  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  would  ask  Louise  to  come  and  bind  it  up. 
Won't  she  turn  and  see  ?  .  .  . 

Have  I  been  asleep  ?  What  is  this  in  my  hands  ?  The 
amber  gods  ?  Oh,  yes  !  I  asked  to  see  them  again  ;  I  like 
their  smell,  I  think.  It  is  ten  years  I  have  had  them. 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  61 

They  enchant ;  but  the  charm  will  not  last ;  nothing  will. 
I  rubbed  a  little  yellow  smoke  out  of  them,  —  a  cloud  that 
hung  between  him  and  the  world,  so  that  he  saw  only 
me,  —  at  least —  What  am  I  dreaming  of  ?  All  man 
ner  of  illusions  haunt  me.  Who  said  anything  about  ten 
years  ?  I  have  been  married  ten  years.  Happy,  then, 
ten  years  ?  Oh,  no  !  One  day  he  woke.  —  How  close  the 
room  is !  I  want  some  air.  Why  don't  they  do  some 
thing  — 

Once,  in  the  pride  of  a  fool,  I  fear  having  made  some 
confidence,  some  recital  of  my  joy  to  ears  that  never  had 
any.  Did  I  say  I  would  not  lose  him  ?  Did  I  say  I  could 
live  just  on  the  memory  of  that  summer  ?  I  lash  myself 
that  I  must  remember  it !  that  I  ever  loved  him  !  When 
he  stirred,  when  the  mist  left  him,  when  he  found  a  mere 
passion  had  blinded  him,  when  he  spread  his  easel,  when 
he  abandoned  love,  —  was  I  wretched  ?  I,  too,  abandoned 
love !  —  more,  —  I  hated !  All  who  hate  are  wretched. 
But  he  was  bound  to  me !  Yes,  he  might  move  restlessly, 
—  it  only  clanked  his  chains.  Did  he  wound  me  ?  I  was 
cruel.  He  never  spoke.  He  became  artist,  —  ceased  to 
be  man,  — was  more  indifferent  than  the  cloud.  He  could 
paint  me  then,  —  and,  revealed  and  bare,  all  our  histories 
written  in  me,  he  hung  me  up  beside  my  ancestors. 
There  I  hang.  Come  from  thy  frame,  thou  substance, 
and  let  this  troubled  phantom  go!  Come!  for  he  gave 
my  life  to  thee.  In  thee  he  shut  and  sealed  it  all,  and  left 
me  as  the  empty  husk.  —  Did  she  —  that  other — join  us 
then  ?  No !  I  sent  for  her.  I  meant  to  teach  him  that  he 
was  yet  a  man,  —  to  open  before  him  a  gulf  of  anguish  ; 
but  I  slipped  down  it.  Then  I  dogged  them ;  they  never 
spoke  alone ;  I  intercepted  the  eye's  language ;  I  with 
ered  their  wintry  smiles  to  frowns  ;  I  stifled  their  sighs  ; 


62  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

I  checked  their  breath,  their  motion.  Idle  words  passed 
our  lips ;  we  three  lived  in  a  real  world  of  silence,  ago 
nized  mutes.  She  went.  Summer  by  summer  my  father 
brought  her  to  us.  Always  memory  was  kindled  afresh, 
always  sorrow  kept  smouldering.  Once  she  came  ;  I  lay 
here  ;  she  has  not  left  me  since.  He,  —  he  also  comes  ; 
he  has  soothed  pain  with  that  loveless  eye,  carried  me  in 
untender  arms,  watched  calmly  beside  my  delirious  nights. 
He  who  loved  beauty  has  learned  disgust.  Why  should 
I  care  ?  I,  from  the  slave  of  bald  form,  enlarged  him  to 
the  master  of  gorgeous  color  ;  his  blaze  is  my  ashes.  He 
studies  me.  I  owe  him  nothing.  .  .  . 

Is  it  near  morning  ?  Have  I  dozed  again  ?  Night  is 
long.  The  great  hall-clock  is  striking,  —  throb  after  throb 
on  the  darkness.  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  child, 
watching  its  lengthened  pendulum  swing  as  if  time  were 
its  own  and  it  measured  the  thread  slowly,  loath  to  part, 

—  remember  streaking  its  great  ebony  case  with  a  little 
finger,  misting  it  with  a  warm  breath.     Throb  after  throb, 

—  is  it  going  to  peal  forever  ?    Stop,  solemn   clangor ! 
hearts  stop.     Midnight. 

The  nurses  have  gone  down;  she  sits  there  alone. 
Her  bent  side-face  is  full  of  pity.  Now  and  then  her 
head  turns ;  the  great  brown  eyes  lift  heavily,  and  lie  on 
me, —  heavily,  —  as  if  the  sight  of  me  pained  her.  Ah, 
in  me  perishes  her  youth  !  death  enters  her  world  !  Be 
sides,  she  loves  me.  I  do  not  want  her  love,  —  I  would 
fling  it  off;  but  I  am  faint,  —  I  am  impotent,  —  I  am  so 
cold  1  Not  that  she  lives,  and  I  die,  —  not  that  she  has 
peace,  and  I  tumult, — not  for  her  voice's  music,  —  not  for 
her  eye's  lustre,  —  not  for  any  charm  of  her  womanly 
presence,  —  neither  for  her  clear,  fair  soul,  —  nor  that 
when  the  storm  and  winter  pass  and  I  am  stiff  and  frozen, 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  63 

she  smiles  in  the  sun  and  leads  new  life,  —  not  for  all  this 
I  hate  her ;  but  because  my  going  gives  her  what  I  lost, 
—  because,  I  stepped  aside,  the  light  falls  on  her, — 
because  from  my  despair  springs  her  happiness.  Poor 
fool !  let  her  be  happy,  if  she  can !  Her  mother  was 
a  Willoughby!  And  what  is  a  flower  that  blows  on  a 
grave?  .  .  . 

Why  do  I  remember  so  distinctly  one  night  alone  of 
all  my  life,  —  one  night,  when  we  dance  in  the  low  room 
of  a  seaside  cottage,  —  dance  to  Lu's  singing  ?  He  leads 
me  to  her  when  the  dance  Is  through,  brushing  with  his 
head  the  festooned  nets  that  swing  from  the  rafters,  —  and 
in  at  the  open  casement  is  blown  a  butterfly,  a  dead  but 
terfly,  from  off  the  sea.  She  holds  it  compassionately,  till 
I  pin  it  on  my  dress,  —  the  wings,  twin  magnificences, 
freckled  and  barred  and  powdered  with  gold,  fluttering  at 
my  breath.  Some  one  speaks  with  me  ;  she  strays  to  the 
window,  he  follows,  and  they  are  silent.  He  looks  far 
away  over  the  gray;  loneliness  stretching  beyond.  At 
length  he  murmurs :  "  A  brief  madness  makes  my  long 
misery.  Louise,  if  the  earth  were  dazzled  aside  from  her 
constant  pole-star  to  worship  some  bewildering  comet, 
would  she  be  more  forlorn  than  I?" 

"  Dear  Rose !  your  art  remains,"  I  hear  her  say. 

He  bends  lower,  that  his  breath  may  scorch  her  brow. 
"  Was  I  wrong  ?  Am  I  right  ?  "  he  whispers,  hurriedly. 
"  You  loved  me  once ;  you  love  me  now,  Louise,  if  I 
were  free?" 

"  But  you  are  not  free." 

She  does  not  recoil,  yet  her  very  atmosphere  repels 
him,  while  looking  up  with  those  woful  eyes  blanching  her 
cheek  by  their  gathering  darkness.  "And,  Rose  — " 
she  sighs,  then  ceases  abruptly,  while  a  quiver  of  sudden 


64  THE  AMBER   GODS. 

scorn  writhes  spurningly  down  eyelid  and  nostril  and 
pains  the  whole  face. 

He  erects  himself,  then  reaches  his  hand  for  the  rose 
in  her  belt,  glances  at  me,  —  the  dead  thing  in  my  bosom 
rising  and  falling  with  my  turbulent  heart,  —  holds  the 
rose  to  his  lips,  leaves  her.  How  keen  are  my  ears  ! 
how  flushed  my  cheek  !  how  eager  and  fierce  my  eyes ! 
He  approaches ;  I  snatch  the  rose  and  tear  its  petals  in 
an  angry  shower,  and  then  a  dim  east-wind  pours  in  and 
scatters  my  dream  like  flakes  of  foam.  All  dreams  go ; 
youth  and  hope  desert  me*  the  dark  claims  me.  O 
room,  surrender  me  !  0  sickness  and  sorrow,  loose  your 
weary  hold! 

It  maddens  me  to  know  that  the  sun  will  shine  again, 
the  tender  grass  grow  green,  the  veery  sing,  the  crocus 
come.  She  will  walk  in  the  light  and  re-gather  youth, 
and  I  moulder,  a  forgotten  heap.  Oh,  why  not  all  things 
crash  to  ruin  with  me  ?  — 

Pain,  pain,  pain !  Where  is  my  father  ?  Why  is  he 
away,  when  they  know  I  die  ?  He  used  to  hold  me 
once ;  he  ought  to  hear  me  when  I  call.  He  would  rest 
me,  and  stroke  the  grief  aside,  —  he  is  so  strong.  Where 
is  he? 

These  amulets  stumbling  round  again  ?  Amber,  amber 
gods,  you  did  mischief  in  your  day !  If  I  clutched  you 
hard,  as  Lu  did  once,  all  your  spells  would  be  broken. 
—  It  is  colder  than  it  was.  I  think  I  will  go  to  sleep.  — 

What  was  that  ?  How  loud  and  resonant !  It  stuns 
me.  It  is  too  sonorous.  Does  sound  flash  ?  Ah !  the 
hour.  Another  ?  How  long  the  silver  toll  swims  on  the 
silent  air !  It  is  one  o'clock,  —  a  passing  bell,  a  knell. 
If  I  were  at  home  by  the  river,  the  tide  would  be  turning 
down,  down,  and  out  to  the  broad,  broad  sea.  Is  it  worth 
while  to  have  lived  ? 


THE  AMBER  GODS.  65 

Have  I  spoken  ?  She  looks  at  me,  rises,  and  touches 
that  bell-rope  that  always  brings  him.  How  softly  he 
opens  the  door !  Waiting,  perhaps.  Well.  Ten  years 
have  not  altered  him  much.  The  face  is  brighter,  finer, 
—  shines  with  the  eternal  youth  of  genius.  They  pause 
a  moment ;  I  suppose  they  are  coming  to  me  ;  but  their 
eyes  are  on  each  other. 

Why  must  the  long,  silent  look  with  which  he  met 
her  the  day  I  got  my  amber  strike  back  on  me  now  so 
vindictively?  I  remember  three  looks:  that,  and  this, 
and  one  other,  —  one  fervid  noon,  a  look  that  drank  my 
soul,  that  culminated  my  existence.  Oh,  I  remember! 
I  lost  it  a  little  while  ago.  I  have  it  now.  You  are 
coming  ?  Can't  you  hear  me  ?  See !  these  costly  liqueurs, 
these  precious  perfumes  beside  me  here,  if  I  can  reach 
them,  I  will  drench  the  coverlet  in  them;  it  shall  be 
white  and  sweet  as  a  little  child's.  I  wish  they  were  the 
great  rich  lilies  of  that  day ;  it  is  too  late  for  the  baby 
May-flowers.  You  do  not  like  amber?  There  the 
thread  breaks  again !  the  little  cruel  gods  go  tumbling 
down  the  floor!  Come,  lay  my  head  on  your  breast! 
kiss  my  life  off  my  lips  !  I  .am  your  Yone  !  I  forgot  a 
little  while,  —  but  I  love  you,  Rose !  Rose  ! 

Why !  I  thought  arms  held  me.  How  clear  the  space 
is !  The  wind  from  outdoors,  rising  again,  must  have 
rushed  in.  There  is  the  quarter  striking.  How  free  I 
am !  No  one  here  ?  No  swarm  of  souls  about  me  ? 
Oh,  those  two  faces  looked  from  a  great  mist,  a  moment 
since;  I  scarcely  see  them  now.  'Drop,  mask!  I  will 
not  pick  you  up !  Out,  out  into  the  gale !  back  to  my 
elements ! 

So   I   passed   out   of  the   room,  down   the   staircase. 


66  THE  AMBER  GODS. 

The  servants  below  did  not  see  me,  but  the  hounds 
crouched  and  whined.  I  paused  before  the  great  ebony 
clock ;  again  the  fountain  broke,  and  it  chimed  the  half- 
hour;  it  was  half  past  one;  another  quarter,  and  the 
next  time  its  ponderous  silver  hammers  woke  the  house, 
it  would  be  two.  Half  past  one  ?  Why,  then,  did  not 
the  hands  move?  Why  cling  fixed  on  a  point  five 
minutes  before  the  first  quarter  struck?  To  and  fro, 
soundless  and  purposeless,  swung  the  long  pendulum. 
And,  ah  I  what  was  this  thing  I  had  become?  I  had 
done  with  time.  Not  for  me  the  hands  moved  on  their 
recurrent  circle  any  more. 

I  must  have  died  at  ten  minutes  past  one. 


IN  A  CELLAR. 


IN    A   CELLAR. 


i. 

T  was  the  day  of  Madame  de  St.  Cyr's  din 
ner,  an  event  I  never  missed ;  for,  the  mistress 
of  a  mansion  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain, 
there  still  lingered  about  her  the  exquisite 
grace  and  good-breeding  peculiar  to  the  old  regime.,  that 
insensibly  communicates  itself  to  the  guests  till  they 
move  in  an  atmosphere  of  ease  that  constitutes  the 
charm  of  home.  One  was  always  sure  of  meeting  desi 
rable  and  well-assorted  people  here,  and  a  contre-temps 
was  impossible.  Moreover,  the  house  was  not  at  the 
command  of  all;  and  Madame  de  St.  Cyr,  with  the 
daring  strength  which,  when  found  in  a  woman  at  all, 
should,  to  be  endurable,  be  combined  with  a  sweet  but 
firm  restraint,  rode  rough-shod  over  the  parvenus  of  the 
Empire,  and  was  resolute  enough  to  insulate  herself 
even  among  the  old  noblesse,  who,  as  all  the  world 
knows,  insulate  themselves  from  the  rest  of  France. 
There  were  rare  qualities  in  this  woman,  and  were  I  to 
have  selected  one  who  with  an  even  hand  should  carry  a 
snuffy  candle  through  a  magazine  of  powder,  my  choice 
would  have  devolved  upon  her;  and  she  would  have 
done  it. 


70  IN  A  CELLAE. 

I  often  looked,  and  not  unsuccessfully,  to  discern  what 
heritage  her  daughter  had  in  these  little  affairs.  Indeed, 
to  one  like  myself,  Delphine  presented  the  worthier 
study.  She  wanted  the  airy  charm  of  manner,  the 
suavity  and  tenderness  of  her  mother,  —  a  deficiency 
easily  to  be  pardoned  in  one  of  such  delicate  and  ex 
traordinary  beauty.  And  perhaps  her  face  was  the  truest 
index  of  her  mind;  not  that  it  ever  transparently  dis 
played  a  genuine  emotion,  —  Delphine  was  too  well  bred 
for  that,  —  but  the  outline  of  her  features  had  a  keen 
regular  precision,  as  if  cut  in  a  gem.  Her  exquisite 
color  seldom  varied,  her  eyes  were  like  blue  steel,  she 
was  statue-like  and  stony.  But  had  one  paused  there, 
pronouncing  her  hard  and  impassive,  he  had  committed 
an  error.  She  had  no  great  capability  for  passion,  but 
she  was  not  to  be  deceived;  one  metallic  flash  of  her 
eye  would  cut  like  a  sword  through  the  whole  mesh  of 
entanglements  with  which  you  had  surrounded  her ;  and ' 
frequently,  when  alone  *with  her,  you  perceived  cool 
recesses  in  her  nature,  sparkling  and  pleasant,  which 
jealously  guarded  themselves  from  a  nearer  approach. 
She  was  infinitely  spirituelle  ;  compared  to  her,  Madame 
herself  was  heavy. 

At  the  first,  I  had  seen  that  Delphine  must  be  the  wife 
of  a  diplomate.  Wliat  diplomate  ?  For  a  time  asking 
myself  the  question  seriously,  I  decided  in  the  negative, 
which  did  not,  however,  prevent  Delphine  from  fulfilling 
her  destiny,  since  there  were  others.  She  was,  after  all, 
like  a  draught  of  rich  old  wine,  all  fire  and  sweetness. 
These  things  were  not  generally  seen  in  her;  I  was 
more  favored  than  many;  and  I  looked  at  her  with 
pitiless  perspicacious  eyes.  Nevertheless,  I  had  not  the 
least  advantage ;  it  was,  in  fact,  between  us,  diamond 


IN  A  CELLAR.  71 

cut  diamond,  —  which,  oddly  enough,  brings  me  back  to 
my  story. 

Some  years  previously,  I  had  been  sent  on  a  special 
mission  to  the  government  at  Paris,  and  having  finally 
executed  it,  I  resigned  the  post,  and  resolved  to  make  my 
residence  there,  since  it  is  the  only  place  on  earth  where 
one  can  live.  Every  morning  I  half  expect  to  see  the 
country,  beyond  the  city,  white  with  an  encampment  of 
the  nations,  who,  having  peacefully  flocked  there  over 
night,  wait  till  the  Rue  St.  Honore  shall  run  out  and 
greet  them.  It  surprises  me,  sometimes,  that  those  pre 
tending  to  civilization  are  content  to  remain  at  a  distance. 
What  experience  have  they  of  life,  —  not  to  mention  gay- 
ety  and  pleasure,  but  of  the  great  purpose  of  life,  —  socie 
ty  ?  Man  evidently  is  gregarious ;  Fourier's  fables  are 
founded  on  fact ;  we  are  nothing  without  our  opposites, 
our  fellows,  our  lights  and  shadows,  colors,  relations,  com 
binations,  our  point  d'appui,  and  our  angle  of  sight.  An 
isolated  man  is  immensurable ;  he  is  also  unpicturesque, 
unnatural,  untrue.  He  is  no  longer  the  lord  of  Nature, 
animal  and  vegetable,  —  but  Nature  is  the  lord  of  him ; 
the  trees,  skies,  flowers,  predominate,  and  he  is  in  as  bad 
taste  as  green  and  blue,  or  as  an  oyster  in  a  vase  of  roses. 
The  race  swings  naturally  to  clusters.  It  being  admitted, 
then,  that  society  is  our  normal  state,  where  is  it  to  be  ob 
tained  in  such  perfection  as  at  Paris?  Show  me  the 
urbanity,  the  generosity  in  trifles,  better  than  sacrifice, 
the  incuriousness  and  freedom,  the  grace,  and  wit,  and 
honor,  that  will  equal  such  as  I  find  here.  Morality, — 
we  were  not  speaking  of  it,  —  the  intrusion  is  unnecessa 
ry  ;  must  that  word  with  Anglo-Saxon  pertinacity  dog  us 
round  the  world  ?  A  hollow  mask,  which  Vice  now  and 
then  lifts  for  a  breath  of  air,  I  grant  you  this  state  may  be 


72  IN  A  CELLAE. 

called ;  but  since  I  find  the  vice  elsewhere,  countenance 
my  preference  for  the  accompanying  mask.  But  even 
this  is  vanishing;  such  drawing-rooms  as  Mme.  de  St. 
Cyr's  are  less  and  less  frequent.  Yet,  though  the  de 
lightful  spell  of  the  last  century  daily  dissipates  itself, 
and  we  are  not  now  what  we  were  twenty  years  ago,  still 
Paris  is,  and  will  be  to  the  end  of  time,  for  a  cosmopolitan, 
the  pivot  on  which  the  world  revolves. 

It  was,  then,  as  I  have  said,  the  day  of  Mme.  de  St. 
Cyr's  dinner.  Punctually  at  the  hour,  I  presented  my 
self,  —  for  I  have  always  esteemed  it  the  least  courtesy 
which  a  guest  can  render,  that  he  should  not  cool  his 
hostess's  dinner. 

The  usual  choice  company  waited.  There  was  the 
Marquis  of  G.,  the  ambassador  from  home ;  Col.  Leigh, 
an  attache  of  that  embassy ;  the  Spanish  and  Belgian 
ministers ;  —  all  of  whom,  with  myself,  completed  a  diplo 
matic  circle.  There  were  also  wits  and  artists,  but  no 
ladies  whose  beauty  exceeded  that  of  the  St.  Cyrs.  With 
nearly  all  of  this  assemblage  I  held  certain  relations,  so 
that  I  was  immediately  at  ease.  G.  was  the  only  one 
whom,  perhaps,  I  would  rather  not  have  met,  although 
we  were  the  best  of  friends.  They  awaited  but  one,  the 
Baron  Stahl.  Meanwhile  Delphine  stood  coolly  taking 
the  measurement  of  the  Marquis  of  G.,  while  her  mother 
entertained  one  and  another  guest  with  a  low-toned  flat 
tery,  gentle  interest,  or  lively  narration,  as  the  case  might 
demand. 

In  a  country  where  a  coup  d'etat  was  as  easily  given 
as  a  box  on  the  ear,  we  all  attentively  watched  for  the 
arrival  of  one  who  had  been  sent  from  a  neighboring 
empire  to  negotiate  a  loan  for  the  tottering  throne 
of  this.  Nor  was  expectation  kept  long  on  guard.  In 


IN  A  CELLAR.  73 

a  moment,  "His  Excellency,  the  Baron  Stahl!"  was 
announced. 

The  exaggeration  of  his  low  bow  to  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr, 
the  gleam  askance  of  his  black  eye,  the  absurd  simplicity 
of  his  dress,  did  not  particularly  please  me.  A  low  fore 
head,  straight  black  brows,  a  beardless  cheek  with  a  fine 
color  which  gave  him  a  fictitiously  youthful  appearance, 
were  the  most  striking  traits  of  his  face ;  his  person  was 
not  to  be  found  fault  with ;  but  he  boldly  evinced  his  ad 
miration  for  Delphine,  and  with  a  wicked  eye. 

As  we  were  introduced,  he  assured  me,  in  pure  English, 
that  he  had  pleasure  in  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  gen 
tleman  whose  services  were  so  distinguished. 

I,  in  turn,  assured  him  of  my  pleasure  in  meeting  a 
gentleman  who  appreciated  them. 

I  had  arrived  at  the  house  of  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr  with  a 
load  on  my  mind,  which  for  four  weeks  had  weighed 
there ;  but  before  I  thus  spoke,  it  was  lifted  and  gone. 
I  had  seen  the  Baron  Stahl  before,  although  not  previ 
ously  aware  of  it;  and  now,  as  he  bowed,  talked  my 
native  tongue  so  smoothly,  drew  a  glove  over  the  hand 
some  hand  upon  whose  first  finger  shone  the  only  incon 
gruity  of  his  attire,  a  broad  gold  ring,  holding  a  gaudy 
red  stone,—  as  he  stood  smiling  and  expectant  before  me, 
a  sudden  chain  of  events  flashed  through  my  mind,  an  in 
stantaneous  heat,  like  lightning,  welded  them  into  logic. 
A  great  problem  was  resolved.  For  a  second,  the  breath 
seemed  snatched  from  my  lips ;  the  next,  a  lighter,  freer 
man  never  trod  in  diplomatic  shoes. 

I  really  beg  your  pardon,  —  but  perhaps  from  long 
usage,  it  has  become  impossible  for  me  to  tell  a  straight 
story.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  inform  you  of  events 
already  transpired. 


74  IN  A  CELLAR. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  I,  at  this  time,  possessed  a  valet, 
the  pink  of  valets,  an  Englishman,  —  and  not  the  less 
valuable  to  me  in  a  foreign  capital,  that,  notwithstanding 
his  long  residence,  he  was  utterly  unable  to  speak  one 
word  of  French  intelligibly.  Reading  and  writing  it 
readily,  his  thick  tongue  could  master  scarcely  a  syl 
lable.  The  adroitness  and  perfection  with  which  he 
performed  the  duties  of  his  place  were  unsurpassable. 
To  a  certain  extent  I  was  obliged  to  admit  him  into 
my  confidence ;  I  was  not  at  all  in  his.  In  dexterity 
and  despatch  he  equalled  the  advertisements.  He  never 
condescended  to  don  my  cast-off  apparel,  but,  disposing 
of  it,  always  arrayed  himself  in  plain  but  gentlemanly 
garments.  These  do  not  complete  the  list  of  Hay's  capa 
bilities.  He  speculated.  Respectable  tenements  in  Lon 
don  called  him  landlord ;  in  the  funds  certain  sums  lay 
subject  to  his  order;  to  a  profitable  farm  in  Hants  he 
contemplated  future  retirement ;  and  passing  upon  the 
Bourse,  I  have  received  a  grave  bow,  and  have  left  him 
in  conversation  with  an  eminent  capitalist  respecting  con 
sols,  drafts,  exchange,  and  other  erudite  mysteries,  where 
I  yet  find  myself  in  the  ABC.  Thus  not  only  was  my 
valet  a  free-born  Briton,  but  a  landed  proprietor.  If  the 
Rothschilds  blacked  your  boots  or  shaved  your  chin,  your 
emotions  might  be  akin  to  mine.  When  this  man,  who 
had  an  interest  in  the  India  traders,  brought  the  hot 
water  into  my  dressing-room,  of  a  morning,  the  Antipo 
des  were  tributary  to  me.  To  what  extent  might  any 
little  irascibility  of  mine  drive  a  depression  in  the  mar 
ket  !  and  I  knew,  as  he  brushed  my  hat,  whether  stocks 
rose  or  fell.  In  one  respect,  I  was  essentially  like  our 
Saxon  ancestors,  —  my  servant  was  a  villain.  If  I  had 
been  merely  a  civilian,  in  any  purely  private  capacity, 


IN  A  CELLAR.  75 

having  leisure  to  attend  to  personal  concerns  in  the  midst 
of  the  delicate  specialties  intrusted  to  me  from  the  cabinet 
at  home,  the  possession  of  so  inestimable  a  valet  might 
have  bullied  me  beyond  endurance.  As  it  was,  I  found 
it  rather  agreeable  than  otherwise.  He  was  tacitly  my 
secretary  of  finance. 

Several  years  ago,  a  diamond  of  wonderful  size  and 
beauty,  having  wandered  from  the  East,  fell  into  certain 
imperial  coffers  among  our  Continental  neighbors  ;  and  at 
the  same  time  some  extraordinary  intelligence,  essential 
to  the  existence,  so  to  speak,  of  that  government,  reached 
a  person  there  who  fixed  as  its  price  this  diamond.  After 
a  while  he  obtained  it,  but,  judging  that  prudence  lay  in 
departure,  took  it  to  England,  where  it  was  purchased  for 

an  enormous  sum  by  the  Duke  of as  he  will  remain 

an  unknown  quantity,  let  us  say  X.  There  are  probably 
not  a  dozen  such  diamonds  in  the  world,  —  certainly  not 
three  in  England.  It  rejoiced  in  such  flowery  appella 
tives  as  the  Sea  of  Splendor,  the  Moon  of  Milk  ;  and,  of 
course,  those  who  had  but  parted  with  it  under  protest,  as 
it  were,  determined  to  obtain  it  again  at  all  hazards ;  — 
they  were  never  famous  for  scrupulosity.  The  Duke  of 
X.  was  aware  of  this,  and,  for  a  time,  the  gem  had  lain 
idle,  its  glory  muffled  in  a  casket ;  but  finally,  on  some 
grand  occasion,  a  few  months  prior  to  the  period  of  which 
I  have  spoken  above,  it  was  determined  to  set  it  in  the 
Duchess's  coronet.  Accordingly,  one  day,  it  was  given 
by  her  son,  the  Marquis  of  G.,  into  the  hands  of  their 
solicitor,  who  should  deliver  it  to  her  Grace's  jeweller. 
It  lay  in  a  small  shagreen  case,  and  before  the  Marquis 
left,  the  solicitor  placed  the  case  in  a  flat  leathern  box, 
where  lay  a  chain  of  most  singular  workmanship,  the 
clasp  of  which  was  deranged.  This  chain  was  very 


76  IN  A   CELLAR. 

broad,  of  a  style  known  as  the  brick-work,  but  every 
brick  was  a  tiny  gem,  set  in  a  delicate  filagree  linked 
with  the  next,  and  the  whole  rainbowed  lustrousness 
moving  at  your  will,  like  the  scales  of  some  gorgeous 
Egyptian  serpent ;  —  the  solicitor  was  to  take  this  also  to 
the  jeweller.  Having  laid  the  box  in  his  private  desk, 
Ulster,  his  confidential  clerk,  locked  it,  while  he  bowed 
the  Marquis  down.  Returning  immediately,  the  solicitor 
took  the  flat  box  and  drove  to  the  jeweller's.  He  found 
the  latter  so  crowded  with  customers,  it  being  the  fash 
ionable  hour,  as  to  be  unable  to  attend  to  him ;  he, 
however,  took  the  solicitor  into  his  inner  room,  a  dark 
fire-proof  place,  and  there  quickly  deposited  the  box 
within  a  safe,  which  stood  inside  another,  like  a  Japanese 
puzzle,  and  the  solicitor,  seeing  the  doors  double-locked 
and  secured,  departed ;  the  other  promising  to  attend  to 
the  matter  on  the  morrow. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  jeweller  entered  his  dark 
room,  and  proceeded  to  unlock  the  safe.  This  being  con 
cluded,  and  the  inner  one  also  thrown  open,  he  found  the 
box  in  a  last  and  entirely,  as  he  had  always  believed,  se 
cret  compartment.  Anxious  to  see  this  wonder,  this  Eye 
of  Morning,  and  Heart  of  Day,  he  eagerly  loosened  the 
band  and  unclosed  the  box.  It  was  empty.  There  was 
no  chain  there;  the  diamond  was  missing.  The  sweat 
streamed  from  his  forehead,  his  clothes  were  saturated, 
he  believed  himself  the  victim  of  a  delusion.  Calling  an 
assistant,  every  article  and  nook  in  the  dark  room  was 
examined.  At  last,  in  an  extremity  of  despair,  he  sent 
for  the  solicitor,  who  arrived  in  a  breath.  The  jeweller's 
alarm  hardly  equalled  that  of  the  other.  In  his  sudden 
dismay,  he  at  first  forgot  the  circumstances  and  dates 
relating  to  the  affair;  afterward  was  doubtful.  The 


IN  A   CELLAR.  77 

Marquis  of  G.  was  summoned,  the  police  called  in,  the 
jeweller  given  into  custody.  Every  breath  the  solicitor 
continued  to  draw  only  built  up  his  ruin.  He  swallowed 
laudanum,  but,  by  making  it  an  overdose,  frustrated  his 
own  design.  He  was  assured,  on  his  recovery,  that  no 
suspicion  attached  to  him.  The  jeweller  now  asseverated 
that  the  diamond  had  never  been  given  to  him ;  but 
though  the  jeweller  had  committed  perjury,  this  was, 
nevertheless,  strictly  true.  Of  course,  whoever  had  the 
stone  would  not  attempt  to  dispose  of  it  at  present,  and, 
though  communications  were  opened  with  the  general 
European  police,  there  was  very  little  to  work  upon. 
But  by  means  of  this  last  step  the  former  possessors 
became  aware  of  its  loss,  and  I  make  no  doubt  had  their 
agents  abroad  immediately. 

Meanwhile,  the  case  hung  here,  complicated  and  tan 
talizing,  when  one  morning  I  woke  in  London.  No 
sooner  had  G.  heard  of  my  arrival  than  he  called,  and, 
relating  the  affair,  requested  my  assistance.  I  confess 
myself  to  have  been  interested,  —  foolishly  so,  I  thought 
afterward ;  but  we  all  have  our  weaknesses,  and  diamonds 
were  mine.  In  company  with  the  Marquis,  I  waited  upon 
the  solicitor,  who  entered  into  the  few  details  minutely, 
calling  frequently  upon  Ulster,  a  young,  fresh-looking 
man,  for  corroboration.  We  then  drove  to  the  jeweller's 
new  quarters,  took  him,  under  charge  of  the  officers,  to 
his  place  of  business,  where  he  nervously  showed  me 
every  point  that  could  bear  upon  the  subject,  and  ended 
by  exclaiming,  that  he  was  ruined,  and  all  for  a  stone  he 
had  never  seen.  I  sat  quietly  for  a  few  moments.  It 
stood,  then,  thus :  —  G.  had  given  the  thing  to  the  so 
licitor,  seen  it  put  into  the  box,  seen  the  box  put  into  the 
desk  ;  but  while  the  confidential  clerk,  Ulster,  locked  the 


78  IN  A  CELLAR. 

desk,  the  solicitor  waited  on  the  Marquis  to  the  door,  — 
returning,  took  the  box,  without  opening  it  again,  to  the 
jeweller,  who,* in  the  hurry,  shut  it  up  in  his  safe,  also 
without  opening  it.  The  case  was  perfectly  clear.  These 
mysterious  things  are  always  so  simple !  You  know  now, 
as  well  as  I,  who  took  the  diamond. 

I  did  not  choose  to  volunteer,  but  assented,  on  being 
desired.  The  police  and  I  were  old  friends  ;  they  had  so 
often  assisted  me,  that  I  was  not  afraid  to  pay  them  in 
kind,  and  accordingly  agreed  to  take  charge  of  the  case, 
still  retaining  their  aid,  should  I  require  it.  The  jeweller 
was  now  restored  to  his  occupation,  although  still  sub 
jected  to  a  rigid  surveillance,  and  I  instituted  inquiries 
into  the  recent  movements  of  the  young  man  Ulster.  The 
case  seemed  to  me  to  have  been  very  blindly  conducted. 
But,  though  all  that  was  brought  to  light  concerning  him 
in  London  was  perfectly  fair  and  aboveboard,  it  was  dis 
covered  that,  not  long  since,  he  had  visited  Paris,  —  on  the 
solicitor's  business,  of  course,  but  gaining  thereby  an  op 
portunity  to  transact  any  little  affairs  of  his  own.  This 
was  fortunate  ;  for  if  any  one  could  do  anything  in  Paris, 
it  was  myself. 

It  is  not  often  that  I  act  as  a  detective.  But  one 
homogeneous  to  every  situation  could  hardly  play  a 
pleasanter  part  for  once.  I  have  thought  that  our  great 
masters  in  theory  and  practice,  Machiavel  and  Talley 
rand,  were  hardly  more,  on  a  large  scale. 

I  was  about  to  return  to  Paris,  but  resolved  to  call 
previously  on  the  solicitor  again.  He  welcomed  me 
warmly,  although  my  suspicions  had  not  been  imparted 
to  him,  and,  with  a  more  .cheerful  heart  than  had  lately 
been  habitual  to  him,  entered  into  an  animated  conversa 
tion  respecting  the  great  case  of  Biter  v.  Bit,  then  absorb- 


IN  A  CELLAR.  79 

ing  so  much  of  the  public  attention,  frequently  addressing 
Ulster,  whose  remarks  were  always  pertinent,  brief,  and 
clear.  As  I  sat  actively  discussing  the  topic,  feeling  no 
more  interest  in  it  than  in  the  end  of  that  cigar  I  just  cut 
off,  and  noting  exactly  every  look  and  motion  of  the 
unfortunate  youth,  I  recollect  the  curious  sentiment  that 
filled  me  regarding  him.  What  injury  had  he  done  me, 
that  I  should  pursue  him  with  punishment  ?  Me  ?  I  am, 
and  every  individual  is,  integral  with  the  commonwealth. 
It  was  the  commonwealth  he  had  injured.  Yet,  even 
then,  why  was  I  the  one  to  administer  justice  ?  Why  not 
continue  with  my  coffee  in  the  morning,  my  kings  and 
cabinets  and  national  chess  at  noon,  my  opera  at  night, 
and  let  the  poor  devil  go  ?  Why,  but  that  justice  is 
brought  home  to  every  member  of  society,  —  that  naked 
duty  requires  no  shirking  of  such  responsibility,  —  that, 
had  I  failed  here,  the  crime  might,  with  reason,  lie  at  my 
door  and  multiply,  the  criminal  increase  himself? 

Very  possibly  you  will  not  unite  with  me ;  but  these 
little  catechisms  are,  once  in  a  while,  indispensable,  to 
vindicate  one's  course  to  one's  self. 

This  Ulster  was  a  handsome  youth ;  —  the  rogues  have 
generally  all  the  good  looks.  There  was  nothing  else 
remarkable  about  him  but  his  quickness  ;  he  was  perpet 
ually  on  the  alert ;  by  constant  activity,  the  rust  was 
never  allowed  to  collect  on  his  faculties ;  his  sharpness 
was  distressing,  —  he  appeared  subject  to  a  tense  strain. 
Now  his  quill  scratched  over  the  paper  unconcernedly, 
while  he  could  join  as  easily  in  his  master's  conversation  : 
nothing  seemed  to  preoccupy  him,  or  he  held  a  mind  open 
at  every  point.  It  is  pitiful  to  remember  him  that  morn 
ing,  sitting  quiet,  unconscious,  and  free,  utterly  in  the 
hands  of  that  mighty  Inquisition,  the  Metropolitan  Police, 


80  IN  A  CELLAR. 

with  its  countless  arms,  its  cells  and  myrmidons  in  the 
remotest  corners  of  the  Continent,  —  at  the  mercy  of  so 
merciless  a  monster,  and  momently  closer  involved,  like 
some  poor  prey  round  which  a  spider  spins  its  bewildering 
web.  It  was  also  curious  to  observe  the  sudden  suspicion 
that  darkened  his  face  at  some  innocent  remark,  —  the 
quick  shrinking  and  intrenched  retirement,  the  manifest 
sting  and  rancor,  as  I  touched  his  wound  with  a  swift 
flash  of  my  slander  weapon  and  sheathed  it  again,  and, 
after  the  thrust,  the  espionage,  and  the  relief  at  believing 
it  accidental.  He  had  many  threads  to  gather  up  and 
hold;  —  little  electric  warnings  along  them  must  have 
been  constantly  shocking  him.  He  did  that  part  well 
enough ;  it  was  a  mistake,  to  begin  with ;  he  needed 
prudence.  At  that  time  I  owed  this  Ulster  nothing ; 
now,  however,  I  owe  him  a  grudge,  for  some  of  the  most 
harassing  hours  of  my  life  were  occasioned  me  by  him. 
But  I  shall  not  cherish  enmity  on  that  account.  With  so 
promising  a  beginning,  he  will  graduate  and  take  his 
degree  from  the  loftiest  altitude  in  his  line.  Hemp  is  a 
narcotic ;  let  it  bring  me  forgetfulness. 

In  Paris  I  found  it  not  difficult  to  trace  such  a  person, 
since  he  was  both  foreign  and  unaccustomed.  It  was  as 
certained  that  he  had  posted  several  letters.  A  person 
of  his  description  had  been  seen  to  drop  a  letter,  the  su 
perscription  of  which  had  been  read  by  one  who  picked  it 
up  for  him.  This  superscription  was  the  address  of  the 
very  person  who  was  likely  to  be  the  agent  of  the  former 
possessors  of  the  diamond,  and  had  attracted  attention 
After  all,  —  you  know  the  Secret  Force,  —  it  was  not  so 
impossible  to  imagine  what  this  letter  contained,  despite 
of  its  cipher.  Such  a  person  also  had  been  met  among 
the  Jews,  and  at  certain  shops  whose  reputation  was  not 


IN  A  CELLAR.  81 

of  the  clearest.  He  had  called  once  or  twice  on  Mme.  de 
St.  Cyr,  on  business  relative  to  a  vineyard  adjoining  her 
chateau  in  the  Gironde,  which  she  had  sold  to  a  wine 
merchant  of  England.  I  found  a  zest  in  the  affair,  as  I 
pursued  it. 

We  were  now  fairly  at  sea,  but  before  long  I  found  we 
were  likely  to  remain  there ;  in  fact,  nothing  of  conse 
quence  eventuated.  I  began  to  regret  having  taken  the 
affair  from  the  hands  in  which  I  had  found  it,  and  one 
day,  it  being  a  gala  or  some  insatiable  saint's  day,  I  was 
riding,  perplexed  with  that  and  other  matters,  and  paying 
small  attention  to  the  passing  crowd.  I  was  vexed  and 
mortified,  and  had  fully  decided  to  throw  up  the  whole, — 
on  such  hairs  do  things  hang,  —  when,  suddenly  turning  a 
corner,  my  bridle-reins  became  entangled  in  the  snaffle  of 
another  rider.  I  loosened  them  abstractedly,  and  not  till 
it  was  necessary  to  bow  to  my  strange  antagonist,  on  part 
ing,  did  I  glance  up.  The  person  before  me  was  evidently 
not  accustomed  to  play  the  dandy ;  he  wore  his  clothes  ill, 
sat  his  horse  worse,  and  was  uneasy  in  the  saddle.  The 
unmistakable  air  of  the  gamin  was  apparent  beneath  the 
superficies  of  the  gentleman.  Conspicuous  on  his  cos 
tume,  and  wound  like  an  order  of  merit  upon  his  breast, 
glittered  a  chain,  the  chain,  —  each  tiny  brick-like  gem 
spiked  with  a  hundred  sparks,  and  building  a  fabric  of 
sturdy  probabilities  with  the  celerity  of  the  genii  in  con 
structing  Aladdin's  palace.  There,  a  cable  to  haul  up 
the  treasure,  was  the  chain  ;  —  where  was  the  diamond  ? 
.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  I  followed  this  young  friend,  with 
what  assiduity  I  kept  him  in  sight,  up  and  down,  all  day 
long,  till,  weary  at  last  of  his  fine  sport,  as  I  certainly  was 
of  mine,  he  left  his  steed  in  stall  and  fared  on  his  way 
a-foot.  Still  pursuing,  now  I  threaded  quay  and  square, 
4*  B- 


82  IN  A  CELLAK. 

street  and  alley,  till  he  disappeared  in  a  small  shop,  in 
one  of  those  dark  crowded  lanes  leading  eastward  from 
the  Pont  Neuf,  in  the  city.  It  was  the  sign  of  a  marchand 
des  armures,  and  having  provided  myself  with  those  per- 
euasive  arguments,  a  sergent-de-ville  and  a  gendarme,  I 
entered. 

A  place  more  characteristic  it  would  be  impossible  to 
find.  Here  were  piled  bows  of  every  material,  ash,  and 
horn,  and  tougher  fibres,  with  slackened  strings,  and 
among  them  peered  a  rusty  clarion  and  battle-axe,  while 
the  quivers  that  should  have  accompanied  lay  in  a  distant 
corner,  their  arrows  serving  to  pin  long,  dusty,  torn  ban 
ners  to  the  wall.  Opposite  the  entrance,  an  archer  in 
bronze  hung  on  tiptoe,  and  levelled  a  steel  bow,  whose 
piercing  fieche  seemed  sparkling  with  impatience  to  spring 
from  his  finger  and  flesh  itself  in  the  heart  of  the  intruder. 
The  hauberk  and  halberd,  lance  and  casque,  arquebuse 
and  sword,  were  suspended  in  friendly  congeries  ;  and 
fragments  of  costly  stuff  swept  from  ceiling  to  floor, 
crushed  and  soiled  by  the  heaps  of  rusty  firelocks,  cut 
lasses,  and  gauntlets  thrown  upon  them.  In  one  place, 
a  little  antique  bust  was  half  hid  in  the  folds  of  some 
pennon,  still  dyed  with  battle-stains ;  in  another,  scattered 
treasures  of  Dresden  and  Sevres  brought  the  drawing- 
room  into  the  campaign  ;  and  all  around  bivouacked  rifles, 
whose  polished  barrels  glittered  full  of  death,  —  pistols,  va 
riously  mounted,  for  an  insurgent  at  the  barricades,  or  for 
a  lost  millionnaire  at  the  gaming-table,  —  foils,  with  but 
toned  bluntness,  —  and  rapiers  whose  even  edges  were 
viewless  as  if  filed  into  air.  Destruction  lay  everywhere, 
at  the  command  of  the  owner  of  this  place,  and,  had  he 
possessed  a  particle  of  vivacity,  it  would  have  been  haz 
ardous  to  bow  beneath  his  doorway.  It  did  not,  I  niu»t 


IN  A  CELLAK.  83 

say,  look  like  a  place  where  I  should  find  a  diamond.  As 
the  owner  came  forward,  I  determined  on  my  plan  of 
action. 

"  You  have,  sir,"  I  said,  handing  him  a  bit  of  paper,  on 
which  were  scrawled  some  numbers,  u  a  diamond  in  your 
possession,  of  such  and  so  many  carats,  size,  and  value, 
belonging  to  the  Duke  of  X.,  and  left  with  you  by  an 
Englishman,  Mr.  Arthur  Ulster.  You  will  deliver  it  to 
me,  if  you  please." 

"  Monsieur ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  lifting  his  hands,  and 
surveying  me  with  the  widest  eyes  I  ever  saw.  "  A  dia 
mond  !  In  my  possession  !  So  immense  a  thing  !  It  is 
impossible.  I  have  not  even  seen  one  of  the  kind.  It  is 
a  mistake.  Jacques  Noailles,  the  vender  of  jewels  engros, 
second  door  below,  must  be  the  man.  One  should  per 
ceive  that  my  business  is  with  arms,  not  diamonds.  I 
have  it  not ;  it  would  ruin  me." 

Here  he  paused  for  a  reply,  but,  meeting  none,  re 
sumed.  "  M.  Arthur  Ulster  !  —  I  have  heard  of  no  such 
person.  I  never  spoke  with  an  Englishman.  Bah !  I 
detest  them  !  I  have  no  dealings  with  them.  I  repeat,  I 
have  not  your  jewel.  Do  you  wish  anything  more  of 
me?" 

His  vehemence  only  convinced  me  of  the  truth  of  my 
suspicions. 

"  These  heroics  are  out  of  place,"  I  answered.  "  I  de 
mand  the  article  in  question." 

"  Monsieur  doubts  me  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  rueful  face,  — 
"  questions  rny  word,  which  is  incontrovertible  ?  "  Here 
he  clapped  his  hand  upon  a  couteau-de-chasse  lying  near, 
but,  appearing  to  think  better  of  it,  drew  himself  up,  and, 
with  a  shower  of  nods  flung  at  me,  added,  "  I  deny  your 
accusation  !  "  I  had  not  accused  him. 


84  IN  A  CELLAK. 

"  You  are  at  too  much  pains  to  convict  yourself.  I 
charge  you  with  nothing,"  I  said.  "  But  this  diamond 
must  be  surrendered." 

"  Monsieur  is  mad ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  mad  !  he  dreams ! 
Do  I  look  like  one  who  possesses  such  a  trophy  ?  Does 
my  shop  resemble  a  mine  ?  Look  about !  See !  All 
that  is  here  would  not  bring  a  hundredth  part  of  its 
price.  I  beseech  Monsieur  to  believe  me  ;  he  has  mis 
taken  the  number,  or  has  been  misinformed." 

"  We  waste  words.  I  know  this  diamond  is  here,  as 
well  as  a  costly  chain  — " 

"  On  my  soul,  on  my  life,  on  my  honor,"  he  cried, 
clasping  his  hands  and  turning  up  his  eyes,  "there  is 
here  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  do  not  deal  in  gems.  A 
little  silk,  a  few  weapons,  a  curiosity,  a  nicknack,  com 
prise  my  stock.  I  have  not  the  diamond.  I  do  not 
know  the  thing.  I  am  poor.  I  am  honest.  Suspicion 
destroys  me ! " 

"  As  you  will  find,  should  I  be  longer  troubled  by  your 
denials." 

He  was  inflexible,  and,  having  exhausted  every  artifice 
of  innocence,  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  —  oh,  these 
French !  life  is  their  theatre,  —  and  remained  quiet.  It 
was  getting  dark.  There  was  no  gas  in  the  place ;  but 
in  the  pause  a  distant  street-lamp  swung  its  light  dimly 
round. 

"  Unless  one  desires  to  purchase,  allow  me  to  say  that 
it  is  my  hour  for  closing,"  he  remarked,  blandly,  rubbing 
his  black-bearded  chin. 

"  My  time  is  valuable,"  I  returned.  "  It  is  late  and 
dark.  When  your  shop-boy  lights  up  —  " 

"  Pardon,  —  we  do  not  light." 

"  Permit  me,  then,  to  perform  that  office  for  you.     In 


IN  A  CELLAR.  85 

this  blaze  you  may  perceive  my  companions,  whom  you 
have  not  appeared  to  recognize." 

So  saying,  I  scratched  a  match  upon  the  floor,  and,  as 
the  sergent'de-ville  and  the  gendarme  advanced,  threw  the 
light  of  the  blue  spirt  of  sulphurous  flame  upon  them.  In 
ft  moment  more  the  match  went  out,  and  we  remained  in 
the  demi-twilight  of  the  distant  lantern.  The  marchand 
des  armures  stood  petrified  and  aghast  Had  he  seen  the 
imps  of  Satan  in  that  instant,  it  could  have  had  no  greater 
effect. 

"  You  have  seen  them  ?  "  I  asked.  "  I  regret  to  incon 
venience  you ;  but  unless  this  diamond  is  produced  at 
once,  my  friends  will  put  their  seal  on  your  goods,  your 
property  will  be  confiscated,  yourself  in  a  dungeon.  In 
other  words,  I  allow  you  five  minutes  ;  at  the  close  of  that 
time  you  will  have  chosen  between  restitution  and  ruin." 

He  remained  apparently  lost  in  thought.  He  was  ^ 
big,  stout  man,  and  with  one  blow  of  his  powerful  fist 
could  easily  have  settled  me.  It  was  the  last  thing  in  his 
mind.  At  length  he  lifted  his  head,  —  "  Rosalie ! "  he 
called. 

At  the  word,  a  light  foot  pattered  along  a  stone  floor 
within,  and  in  a  moment  a  little  woman  stood  in  an  arch 
raised  by  two  steps  from  our  own  level.  Carrying  a 
candle,  she  descended  and  tripped  toward  him.  She  was 
not  pretty,  but  sprightly  and  keen,  as  the  perpetual  attri 
tion  of  life  must  needs  make  her,  and  wore  the  everlasting 
grisette  costume,  which  displays  the  neatest  of  ankles,  and 
whose  cap  is  more  becoming  than  wreaths  of  garden  mil 
linery.  I  am  too  minute,  I  see,  but  it  is  second  nature. 
The  two  commenced  a  vigorous  whispering  amid  sundry 
gestures  and  glances.  Suddenly  the  woman  turned,  and, 
laying  the  prettiest  of  little  hands  on  my  sleeve,  said,  with 
a  winning  smile,  — 


86  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  Is  it  a  crime  of  lese-majeste  ?  " 

This  was  a  new  idea,  but  might  be  useful. 

"  Not  yet,"  I  said ;  "  two  minutes  more,  and  I  will  not 
answer  for  the  consequence." 

Other  whispers  ensued. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  man,  leaning  on  one  arm  over 
the  counter,  and  looking  up  in  my  face,  with  the  most 
engaging  frankness,  —  "  it  is  t^rue  that  I  have  such  a  dia 
mond  ;  but  it  is  not  mine.  It  is  left  with  me  to  be  deliv 
ered  to  the  Baron  Stahl,  who  comes  as  an  agent  from  his 
court  for  its  purchase." 

«Yes,  — I  know." 

"  He  was  to  have  paid  me  half  a  million  francs,  —  not 
half  its  worth,  —  in  trust  for  the  person  who  left  it,  who  is 
not  M.  Arthur  Ulster,  but  Mine,  de  St.  Cyr." 

3Iadame  de  St.  Cyr  !  How  under  the  sun  —  No,  — 
it  could  not  be  possible.  The  case  stood  as  it  stood 
before.  The  rogue  was  in  deeper  water  than  I  had 
thought ;  he  had  merely  employed  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr.  I 
ran  this  over  in  iny  mind,  while  I  said,  "  Yes." 

"  Now,  sir,"  I  continued,  "  you  will  state  the  terms  of 
this  transaction." 

"  With  pleasure.  For  my  trouble  I  was  myself  to  re 
ceive  patronage  and  five  thousand  francs.  The  Baron  is 
to  be  here  directly,  on  other  and  public  business.  Reine 
du  del,  Monsieur  !  how  shall  I  meet  him  ?  " 

"  He  is  powerless  in  Paris  ;  your  fear  is  idle." 

"  True.     There  were  no  other  terms." 

"  Nor  papers  ?  " 

"  The  lady  thought  it  safest  to  be  without  them.  She 
took  merely  my  receipt,  which  the  Baron  Stahl  will  bring 
to  me  from  her  before  receiving  this." 

"  I  will  trouble  you  for  it  now." 


IN  A  CELLAR.  87 

He  bowed  and  shuffled  away.  At  a  glance  from  me, 
the  gendarme  slipped  to  the  rear  of  the  building,  where 
three  others  were  stationed  at  the  two  exits  in  that  direc 
tion,  to  caution  them  of  the  critical  moment,  and  returned. 
Ten  minutes  passed,  —  the  merchant  did  not  appear.  If, 
after  all,  he  had  made  off  with  it !  There  had  been  the 
click  of  a  bolt,  the  half-stifled  rattle  of  arms,  as  if  a  door 
had  been  opened  and  rapidly  closed  again,  but  nothing 
more. 

"  I  will  see  what  detains  my  friend,"  said  Mademoiselle, 
the  little  woman. 

We  suffered  her  to  withdraw.  In  a  moment  more  a 
quick  expostulation  was  to  be  heard. 

"  They  are  there,  the  gendarmes,  my  little  one !  I 
should  have  run,  but  they  caught  me,  the  villains !  and 
replaced  me  in  the  house.  Oh,  sacre!"  —  and  rolling 
this  word  between  his  teeth,  he  came  down  and  laid  a 
little  box  on  the  counter.  I  opened  it.  There  was 
within  a  large,  glittering,  curiously-cut  piece  of  glass. 
I  threw  it  aside. 

"  The  diamond  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Monsieur  had  it,"  he  replied,  stooping  to  pick  up  the 
glass  with  every  appearance  of  surprise  and  care. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  endeavored  to  escape  with 
that  bawble  ?  Produce  the  diamond  instantly,  or  you 
shall  hang  as  high  as  Haman ! "  I  roared. 

Whether  he  knew  the  individual  in  question  or  not, 
the  threat  was  efficient ;  he  trembled  and  hesitated,  and 
finally  drew  the  identical  shagreen  case  from  his  bosom. 

"  I  but  jested,"  he  said.  "  Monsieur  will  witness  that  I 
relinquish  it  with  reluctance." 

"  I  will  witness  that  you  receive  stolen  goods  !  "  I  cried, 
in  wrath. 


88  IN  A   CELLAR. 

He  placed  it  in  my  hands. 

"  Oh  ! "  he  groaned,  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  hang 
ing  his  head,  and  laying  both  hands  on  the  counter  before 
him,  —  "  it  pains,  it  grieves  me  to  part  with  it ! " 

"  And  the  chain,"  I  said. 

"  Monsieur  did  not  demand  that !  " 

"  I  demand  it  now." 

In  a  moment,  the  chain  also  was  given  me. 

"  And  now  will  Monsieur  do  me  a  favor  ?  Will  he  in 
form  me  by  what  means  he  ascertained  these  facts  ?  " 

I  glanced  at  the  gargon,  who  had  probably  supplied 
himself  with  his  master's  finery  illicitly;  —  he  was  the 
means  ;  —  we  have  some  generosity ;  —  I  thought  I  should 
prefer  doing  him  the  favor,  and  declined. 

I  unclasped  the  shagreen  case ;  the  sergent-de-ville  and 
the  gendarme  stole  up  and  looked  over  my  shoulder  ;  the 
garqon  drew  near  with  round  eyes ;  the  little  woman 
peeped  across  ;  the  merchant,  with  tears  streaming  over 
his  face,  gazed  as  if  it  had  been  a  loadstone ;  finally,  I 
looked  myself.  There  it  lay,  the  glowing,  resplendent 
thing  !  flashing  in  affluence  of  splendor,  throbbing  and 
palpitant  with  life,  drawing  all  the  light  from  the  little 
woman's  candle,  from  the  sparkling  armor  around,  from 
the  steel  barbs,  and  the  distant  lantern,  into  its  bosom. 
It  was  scarcely  so  large  as  I  had  expected  to  see  it,  but 
more  brilliant  than  anything  I  could  conceive  of.  I  do 
not  believe  there  is  another  such  in  the  world.  One  saw 
clearly  that  the  Oriental  superstition  of  the  sex  of  stones 
was  no  fable  ;  this  was  essentially  the  female  of  diamonds, 
the  queen  herself,  the  principle  of  life,  the  rejoicing  recep 
tive  force.  It  was  not  radiant,  as  the  term  literally  taken 
implies  ;  it  seemed  rather  to  retain  its  wealth,  —  instead 
of  emitting  its  glorious  rays,  to  curl  them  back  like  the 


IN  A  CELLAK.  89 

fringe  of  a  madrepore,  and  lie  there  with  redoubled  quiv 
ering  scintillations,  a  mass  of  white  magnificence,  not 
prismatic,  but  a  vast  milky  lustre.  I  closed  the  case  ;  on 
reopening  it,  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  beautiful 
sleepless  eye  would  again  flash  upon  me.  I  did  not  com 
prehend  how  it  could  afford  such  perpetual  richness,  such 
sheets  of  lustre. 

At  last  we  compelled  ourselves  to  be  satisfied.  I  left 
the  shop,  dismissed  my  attendants,  and,  fresh  from  the 
contemplation  of  this  miracle,  again  trod  the  dirty,  reek 
ing  streets,  crossed  the  bridge,  with  its  lights,  its  ware 
houses  midway,  its  living  torrents  who  poured  on  uncon 
scious  of  the  beauty  within  their  reach.  The  thought  of 
their  ignorance  of  the  treasure,  not  a  dozen  yards  distant, 
has  often  made  me  question  if  we  all  are  not  equally  una 
ware  of  other  and  greater  processes  of  life,  of  more  per 
fect,  sublimed,  and,  as  it  were,  spiritual  crystallizations 
going  on  invisibly  about  us.  But  had  these  been  told  of 
the  thing  clutched  in  the  hand  of  a  passer,  how  many  of 
them  would  have  known  where  to  turn  ?  and  we,  —  are 
we  any  better  ? 

/ 

II. 

FOR  a  few  days  I  carried  the  diamond  about  my  per 
son,  and  did  not  mention  its  recovery  even  to  my  valet, 
who  knew  that  I  sought  it,  but  communicated  only  with 
the  Marquis  of  G.,  who  replied,  that  he  would  be  in  Paris 
on  a  certain  day,  when  I  could  safely  deliver  it  to  him. 

It  was  now  generally  rumored  that  the  neighboring 
government  was  about  to  send  us  the  Baron  Stahl,  am 
bassador  concerning  arrangements  for  a  loan  to  maintain 
the  sinking  monarchy  in  supremacy  at  Paris,  the  usual 
synecdoche  for  France. 


90  IN  A  CELLAR. 

The  weather  being  fine,  I  proceeded  to  call  on  Mine, 
tie.  St.  Cyr.  She  received  me  in  her  boudoir,  and  on  my 
way  thither  I  could  not  but  observe  the  perfect  quiet  and 
cloistered  seclusion  that  pervaded  the  whole  house,  —  the 
house  itself  seeming  only  an  adjunct  of  the  still  and  sunny 
garden,  of  which  one  caught  a  glimpse  through  the  long 
open  hall-windows  beyond.  This  boudoir  did  not  differ 
from  Others  to  which  1  have  been  admitted:  the  same 
delicate  shades;  all  the  dainty  appliances  of  Art  for 
beauty  ;  the  lavish  profusion  of  bijouterie.  ;  and  the  usual 
statuettes  of  innocence,  to  indicate,  perhaps,  the  presence 
of  that  commodity  which  might  not  be  guessed  at  other 
wise  ;  and  burning  in  a  silver  cup,  a  rich  perfume  loaded 
the  air  with  voluptuous  sweetness.  Through  a  half-open 
door  an  inner  boudoir  was  to  be  seen,  which  must  have 
been  Delphine's;  it  looked  like  her;  the  prevailing  hue 
was  a  soft  purple,  or  gray  ;  a  prie-dieu,  a  book-shelf,  and 
desk,  of  a  dark  West  Indian  wood,  were  just  visible.  There 
was  hut  one  picture,  —  a  sad-eyed,  beautiful  Fate.  It  was 
the  type  of  her  nation.  I  think  she  worshipped  it.  And 
how  apt  is  misfortune  to  degenerate  into  Fate !  —  not  that 
the  girl  had  ever  experienced  the  former,  but,  dissatisfied 
with  life,  and  seeing  no  outlet,  she  accepted  it  stoically 
and  waited  till  it  should  be  over.  She  needed  to  be 
aroused;  —  the  station  of  an  MftfaMttdrtetf,  which  I  de 
sired  for  her,  might  kindle  the  spark.  There  were  no 
flowers,  no  perfumes,  no  busts,  in  this  ascetic  place. 
Delphine  herself,  in  some  faint  rosy  gauze,  her  fair  hair 
streaming  round  her,  as  she  lay  on  a  white-draped  couch, 
half-risen  on  one  arm,  while  she  read  the  mo rn ing's  j c/n'l/e- 
ton,  was  the  most,  perfect  statuary  of  which  a  room  could 
boast, — illumined,  as  I  saw  her,  by  the  gay  beams  that 
entered  at  the  loftily -arched  window,  broken  only  by  the 


IX   A  CELLAR.  91 

flickering  of  the  vine-leaves  that  clustered  the  curiously- 
lattieed  panes  without.  She  resembled  in  kind  a  Nymph, 
just  bursting  from  the  sea;  so  Pallas  might  have  posed 
for  Aphrodite,  Madame  de  St.  Cyr  received  me  with 
emprt'sscnicnt,  and,  so  doing,  closed  the  door  of  this  shrine. 
AVe  spoke  of  various  things,  —  of  the  court,  the  theatre, 
the  weather,  the  world,  —  skating  lightly  round  the  slen 
der  edges  of  her  secret,  till  finally  she  invited  me  to  lunch 
with  her  in  the  garden.  Here,  on  a  rustic  table,  stood 
wine  and  a  few  delicacies,  —  while,  by  extending  a  hand, 
we  could  grasp  the  hanging  pears  and  nectarines,  still 
warm  to  the  lip  and  luscious  with  sunshine,  as  we  dis 
puted  possession  with  the  envious  wasp  who  had  estab 
lished  a  priority  of  claim. 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped,"  I  said,  sipping  the  Haul-Brian, 
whose  fine  and  brittle  smack  contrasted  rarely  with  the 
delicious  juiciness  of  the  fruit,  "that  you  have  laid  in  a 
supply  of  this  treasure  that  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  cor 
rupt,  before  parting  with  that  little  gem  in  the  Gironde." 

"  Ah  ?     You  know,  then,  that  I  have  sold  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.  "  I  have  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Ulster's 
acquaintance." 

"He  arranged  the  terms  for  me,"  she  said,  with  re 
straint, —  adding,  "  I  could  almost  wish  now  that  it  had 
not  been/' 

This  was  probably  true ;  for  the  sum  which  she  hoped 
to  receive  from  Ulster  for  standing  sponsor  to  his  jewel 
wa>  possibly  equnl  to  the  price  of  her  vineyard. 

"  It  was  indispensable  at  the  time,  this  sale  ;  I  thought 
be<t  to  haxard  it  on  one  more  season.  —  If,  after  such  ad 
vantages,  Delphine  will  not  marry,  why  —  it  remains  to 
retire  into  the  country  and  end  our  days  with  the  barba 
rians  ! "  she  continued,  shrugging  her  shoulders ;  "  I  have 
a  house  there." 


92  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  But  you  will  not  be  obliged  to  throw  us  all  into  de 
spair  by  such  a  step  now,"  I  replied. 

She  looked  quickly,  as  if  to  see  how  nearly  I  had  ap 
proached  her  citadel, —  then,  finding  in  my  face  no  ex 
pression  but  a  complimentary  one,  "  No,"  she  said,  "  I 
hope  that  my  affairs  have  brightened  a  little.  One  never 
knows  what  is  in  store." 

Before  long  I  had  assured  myself  that  Mme.  de  St. 
Cyr  was  not  a  party  to  the  theft,  but  had  merely  been 
hired  by  Ulster,  who,  discovering  the  state  of  her  affairs, 
had  not,  therefore,  revealed  his  own,  —  and  this  without 
in  the  least  implying  any  knowledge  on  my  part  of  the 
transaction.  Ulster  must  have  seen  the  necessity  of  leav 
ing  the  business  in  the  hands  of  a  competent  person,  and 
Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  financial  talent  was  patent.  There 
were  few  ladies  in  Paris  who  would  have  rejected  the 
opportunity.  Of  these  things  I  felt  a  tolerable  certainty. 

"  We  throng  with  foreigners,"  said  Madame,  archly,  as 
I  reached  this  point.  "  Diplomates,  too.  The  Baron 
Stahl  arrives  in  a  day." 

"  I  have  heard,"  I  responded.     "  You  are  acquainted  ?  " 

"  Alas !  no,"  she  said.  "  I  knew  his  father  well,  though 
he  himself  is  not  young.  Indeed,  the  families  thought 
once  of  intermarriage.  But  nothing  has  been  said  on  the 
subject  for  many  years.  His  Excellency,  I  hear,  will 
strengthen  himself  at  home  by  an  alliance  with  the  young 
Countess,  the  natural  daughter  of  the  Emperor." 

"  He  surely  will  never  be  so  imprudent  as  to  rivet  his 
chain  by  such  a  link !  " 

"  It  is  impossible  to  compute  the  dice  in  those  despotic 
countries,"  she  rejoined,  —  which  was  pretty  well,  consid 
ering  the  freedom  enjoyed  by  France  at  that  period. 

"  It  may  be,"  I  suggested,  "  that  the  Baron  hopes  to 
open  this  delicate  subject  with  you  yourself,  Madame." 


IN  A  CELLAR.  93 

"  It  is  unlikely,"  she  said,  sighing.  "  And  for  Delphine, 
should  I  tell  her  his  Excellency  preferred  scarlet,  she 
would  infallibly  wear  blue.  Imagine  her,  Monsieur,  in 
fine  scarlet,  with  a  scarf  of  gold  gauze,  and  rustling  grasses 
in  that  unruly  gold  hair  of  hers !  She  would  be  divine ! " 

The  maternal  instinct  as  we  have  it  here  at  Paris  con 
founds  me.  I  do  not  comprehend  it.  Here  was  a  mother 
who  did  not  particularly  love  her  child,  who  would  not  be 
inconsolable  at  her  loss,  would  not  ruin  her  own  complex 
ion  by  care  of  her  during  illness,  would  send  her  through 
fire  and  water  and  every  torture  to  secure  or  maintain  a 
desirable  rank,  who  yet  would  entangle  herself  deeply  in 
intrigue,  would  not  hesitate  to  tarnish  her  own  reputation, 
and  would,  in  fact,  raise  heaven  and  earth  to  —  endow 
this  child  with  a  brilliant  match.  And  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr 
seemed  to  regard  Delphine,  still  further,  as  a  cool  matter 
of  Art. 

These  little  confidences,  moreover,  are  provoking.  They 
put  you  yourself  so  entirely  out  of  the  question. 

"  Mile,  de  St.  Cyr's  beauty  is  peerless,"  I  said,  slightly 
chagrined,  and  at  a  loss.  "  If  hearts  were  trumps,  instead 
of  diamonds ! " 

"  We  are  poor,"  resumed  Madame,  pathetically.  "  Del 
phine  is  not  an  heiress.  Delphine  is  proud.  She  will  not 
stoop  to  charm.  Her  coquetry  is  that  of  an  Amazon. 
Her  kisses  are  arrows.  She  is  Medusa ! "  And  Madame, 
her  mother,  shivered. 

Here,"  with  her  hair  knotted  up  and  secured  by  a  tiny 
dagger,  her  gauzy  drapery  gathered  in  her  arm,  Delphine 
floated  down  the  green  alley  toward  us,  as  if  in  a  rosy 
cloud.  But  this  soft  aspect  never  could  have  been  more 
widely  contradicted  than  by  the  stony  repose  and  cutting 
calm  of  her  beautiful  face. 


94  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  The  Marquis  of  G.,"  said  her  mother,  "  he  also  arrives 
ambassador.  Has  he  talent  ?  Is  he  brilliant  ?  Wealthy, 
of  course,  —  but  gauche  ?  " 

Therewith  I  sketched  for  them  the  Marquis  and  his 
surroundings. 

"It  is  charming,"  said  Madame.  "Delphine,  do  you 
attend  ?  " 

"  And  why  ?  "  asked  Delphine,  half  concealing  a  yawn 
with  her  dazzling  hand.  "  It  is  wearisome ;  it  matters 
not  to  me." 

"  But  he  will  not  go  to  marry  himself  in  France,"  said 
her  mother.  "  Oh,  these  English,"  she  added,  with  a 
laugh,  "yourself,  Monsieur,  being  proof  of  it,  will  not 
mingle  blood,  lest  the  Channel  should  still  flow  between 
the  little  red  globules !  You  will  go  ?  but  to  return 
shortly  ?  You  will  dine  with  me  soon  ?  Au  revoir  !  " 
and  she  gave  me  her  hand  graciously,  while  Delphine 
bowed  as  if  I  were  already  gone,  threw  herself  into  a  gar 
den-chair,  and  commenced  pouring  the  wine  on  a  stone 
for  a  little  tame  snake  which  came  out  and  lapped  it. 

Such  women  as  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr  have  a  species  of 
magnetism  about  them.  It  is  difficult  to  retain  one's  self- 
respect  before  them,  —  for  no  other  reason  than  that  one 
is,  at  the  moment,  absorbed  into  their  individuality,  and 
thinks  and  acts  with  them.  Delphine  must  have  had  a 
strong  will,  and  perpetual  antagonism  did  not  weaken  it. 
As  for  me,  Madame  had,  doubtless,  reasons  of  her  own 
for  tearing  aside  these  customary  bands  of  reserve, — 
reasons  which,  if  you  do  not  perceive,  I  shall  not  enu 
merate. 

"  Have  you  met  with  anything  further  in  your  search, 
sir  ?  "  asked  my  valet,  next  morning. 


IN  A  CELLAR.  95 

"  Oh,  yes,  Hay,"  I  returned,  in  a  very  good  humor,  — • 
"  with  great  success.  You  have  assisted  me  so  much,  that 
I  am  sure  I  owe  it  to  you  to  say  that  I  have  found  the 
diamond." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  you  are  very  kind.  I  have  been  inter 
ested,  but  my  assistance  is  not  worth  mentioning.  I 
thought  likely  it  might  be,  you  appeared  so  quiet."  — 
The  cunning  dog !  — "  How  did  you  find  it,  sir,  may  I 
ask?" 

I  briefly  related  the  leading  facts,  since  he  had  been 
aware  of  the  progress  of  the  case  to  that  point,  —  without, 
however,  mentioning  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  name.  « 

"  And  Monsieur  did  not  inform  me ! "  a  French  valet 
would  have  cried. 

"  You  were  prudent  not  to  mention  it,  sir,"  said  Hay. 
"  These  walls  must  have  better  ears  than  ordinary ;  for  a 
family  has  moved  in  on  the  first  floor  recently,  whose  ac 
tions  are  extremely  suspicious.  But  is  this  precious  affair 
to  be  seen  ?  " 

I  took  it  from  an  inner  pocket  and  displayed  it,  having 
discarded  the  shagreen  case  as  inconvenient. 

"  His  Excellency  must  return  as  he  came,"  said  I. 

Hay's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  And  do  you  carry  it  there,  sir  ?  "  he  asked,  with  sur 
prise,  as  I  restored  it  to  my  waistcoat-pocket. 

"  I  shall  take  it  to  the  bank,"  I  said.  "  I  do  not  like 
the  responsibility." 

"  It  is  very  unsafe,"  was  the  warning  of  this  cautious 
fellow.  "  Why,  sir  !  any  of  these  swells,  these  pickpock 
ets,  might  meet  you,  run  against  you,  —  so  !  "  said  Hay, 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  "  and,  with  the  little  sharp 
knife  concealed  in  just  such  a  ring  as  this  I  wear,  give  a 
light  tap,  and  there  's  a  slit  in  your  vest,  sir,  but  no  dia- 


96  IN  A  CELLAR. 

mond!"  —  and  instantly  resuming  his  former  respectful 
deportment,  Hay  handed  me  my  gloves  and  stick,  and 
smoothed  my  hat. 

"Nonsense!"  I  replied,  drawing  on  the  gloves,  "I 
should  like  to  see  the  man  who  could  be  too  quick  for 
me.  Any  news  from  India,  Hay?" 

"  None  of  consequence,  sir.  The  indigo  crop  is  said  to 
have  failed,  which  advances  the  figure  of  that  on  hand,  so 
that  one  or  two  fortunes  will  be  made  to-day.  Your  hat, 
sir  ?  —  your  lunettes  ?  Here  they  are,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,  Hay." 

"  Go«d  morning,  sir." 

I  descended  the  stairs,  buttoning  my  gloves,  paused  a 
moment  at  the  door  to  look  about,  and  proceeded  down 
the  street,  which  was  not  more  than  usually  thronged. 
At  the  bank  I  paused  to  assure  myself  that  the  diamond 
was  safe.  My  fingers  caught  in  a  singular  slit.  I  started. 
As  Hay  had  prophesied,  there  was  a  fine  longitudinal  cut 
in  my  waistcoat,  but  the  pocket  was  empty.  My  God  ! 
the  thing  was  gone.  I  never  can  forget  the  blank  nihility 
of  all  existence  that  dreadful  moment  when  I  stood  fum 
bling  for  what  was  not.  Calm  as  I  sit  here  and  tell  of  it, 
I  vow  to  you  a  shiver  courses  through  me  at  the  very 
thought.  I  had  circumvented  Stahl  only  to  destroy  my 
self.  The  diamond  was  lost  again.  My  mind  flew  like 
lightning  over  every  chance,  and  a  thousand  started  up 
like  steel  spikes  to  snatch  the  bolt.  For  a  moment  I  was 
stunned,  but,  never  being  very  subject  to  despair,  on  my 
recovery,  which  was  almost  at  once,  took  every  measure 
that  could  be  devised.  Who  had  touched  me  ?  Whom 
had  I  met  ?  Through  what  streets  had  I  come  ?  In  ten 
minutes  the  Prefect  had  the  matter  in  hand.  My  injunc 
tions  were  strict  privacy.  I  sincerely  hoped  the  mishap 


IN  A  CELLAR.  97 

would  not  reach  England ;  and  if  the  diamond  were  not 
recovered  before  the  Marquis  of  G.  arrived,  —  why,  there 
was  the  Seine.  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk,  —  yet  suicide 
is  so  French  an  affair,  that  an  Englishman  does  not  take 
to  it  naturally,  and,  except  in  November,  the  Seine  is  too 
cold  and  damp  for  comfort,  but  during  that  month  I  sup 
pose  it  does  not  greatly  differ  in  these  respects  from  our 
own  atmosphere. 

A  preternatural  activity  now  possessed  me.  I  slept 
none,  ate  little,  worked  immoderately.  I  spared  no 
efforts,  for  everything  was  at  stake.  In  the  midst  of  all, 
G.  arrived.  Hay  also  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost ;  I 
promised  him  a  hundred  pounds,  if  I  found  it.  He  never 
told  me  that  he  said  how  it  would  be,  never  intruded  the 
state  of  the  market,  never  resented  my  irritating  conduct, 
but  watched  me  with  narrow  yet  kind  solicitude,  and  fre 
quently  offered  valuable  suggestions,  which,  however,  as 
everything  else  did,  led  to  nothing.  I  did  not  call  on  G., 
but  in  a  week  or  so  his  card  was  brought  up  one  morning 
to  me.  "  Deny  me,"  I  groaned.  It  yet  wanted  a  week 
of  the  day  on  which  I  had  promised  to  deliver  him  the 
diamond.  Meanwhile  the  Baron  Stahl  had  reached 
Paris,  but  he  still  remained  in  private,  —  few  had  seen 
him. 

The  police  were  forever  on  the  wrong  track.  To 
day  they  stopped  the  old  Comptesse  du  Quesne  and 
her  jewels,  at  the  Barriere ;  to-morrow,  with  their  long 
needles,  they  riddled  a  package  of  lace  destined  for  the 
Duchess  of  X.  herself;  the  Secret  Service  was  doubled  ; 
and  to  crown  all,  a  splendid  new  star  of  the  testy  Prince 
de  Ligne  was  examined  and  proclaimed  to  be  paste,  — 
the  Prince  swearing  vengeance,  if  he  could  discover  the 
cause,  —  while  half  Paris  must  have  been  under  arrest. 

5  G 


98  IN  A  CELLAR. 

My  own  hotel  was  ransacked  thoroughly,  —  Hay  begging 
that  his  traps  might  be  included,  —  but  nothing  resulted, 
and  I  expected  nothing,  for,  of  course,  I  could  swear  that 
the  stone  was  in  my  pocket  when  I  stepped  into  the  street. 
I  confess  I  never  was  nearer  madness,  —  every  word  and 
gesture  stung  me  like  asps,  —  I  walked  on  burning  coals. 
Enduring  all  this  torment,  I  must  yet  meet  my  daily  com 
rades,  eat  ices  at  Tortoni's,  stroll  on  the  Boulevard^,  call 
on  my  acquaintance,  with  the  same  equanimity  as  before. 
I  believe  I  was  equal  to  it.  Only  by  contrast  with  that 
blessed  time  when  Ulster  and  diamonds  were  unknown, 
could  I  imagine  my  past  happiness,  my  present  wretched 
ness.  Rather  than  suffer  it  again,  I  would  be  stretched 
on  the  rack  till  every  bone  in  my  skin  were  broken.  I 
cursed  Mr.  Arthur  Ulster  every  hour  in  the  day  ;  myself, 
as  well ;  and  even  now  the  word  diamond  sends  a  cold 
blast  to  my  heart.  I  often  met  my  friend  the  marchand 
des  armures.  It  was  his  turn  to  triumph  ;  I  fancied  there 
must  be  a  hang-dog  kind  of  air  about  me,  as  about 
every  sharp  man  who  has  been  outwitted.  It  wanted 
finally  but  two  days  of  that  on  which  I  was  to  deliver 
the  diamond. 

One  midnight,  armed  with  a  dark  lantern  and  a  cloak, 
I  was  traversing  the  streets  alone,  —  unsuccessful,  as 
usual,  just  now  solitary,  and  almost  in  despair.  As  I 
turned  a  corner,  two  men  were  but  scarcely  visible  a 
step  before  me.  It  was  a  badly-lighted  part  of  the  town. 
Unseen  and  noiseless  I  followed.  They  spoke  in  low 
tones,  —  almost  whispers  ;  or  rather,  one  spoke,  —  the 
other  seemed  to  nod  assent. 

"  On  the  day  but  one  after  to-morrow,"  I  heard  spoken 
in  English.  Great  Heavens !  was  it  possible  ?  had  1 
arrived  at  a  clew  ?  That  was  the  day  of  days  for  me. 


IN  A  CELLAR.  99 

"  You  have  given  it,  you  say,  in  this  billet,  —  I  wish  to 
be  exact,  you  see,"  continued  the  voice,  — "  to  prevent 
detection,  you  gave  it,  ten  minutes  after  it  came  into  your 

hands,  to  ^the  butler  of  Madame ,"  (here  the  speaker 

stumbled  on  the  rough  pavement,  and  I  lost  the  name,) 

"  who,"  he  continued,  "  will  put  it  in  the "  (a  second 

stumble  acted  like  a  hiccough)  "  cellar." 

"  Wine-cellar,"  I  thought ;  «  and  what  then  ?  " 

"  In  the  ."  A  third  stumble  was  followed  by  a 

round  German  oath.  How  easy  it  is  for  me  now  to  fill 
up  the  little  blanks  which  that  unhappy  pavement  caused  ! 

"  You  share  your  receipts  with  this  butler.  On  the 
day  I  obtain  it,"  he  added,  and  I  now  perceived  his 
foreign  accent,  "I  hand  you  one  hundred  thousand 
francs ;  afterward,  monthly  payments  till  you  have  re 
ceived  the  stipulated  sum.  But  how  will  this  butler 
know  me,  in  season  to  prevent  a  mistake  ?  Hem !  — 
he  might  give  it  to  the  other!" 

My  hearing  had  been  trained  to  such  a  degree  that  I 
would  have  promised  to  catch  any  given  dialogue  of 
the  spirits  themselves,  but  the  whisper  that  answered  him 
eluded  me.  I  caught  nothing  but  a  faint  sibillation. 
"  Your  ring  ? "  was  the  rejoinder.  "  He  shall  be  in 
structed  to  recognize  it  ?  Very  well.  It  is  too  large,  — 
no,  that  will  do,  it  fits  the  first  finger.  There  is  nothing 
more.  I  am  under  infinite  obligations,  sir ;  they  shall 
be  remembered.  Adieu  ! " 

The  two  parted ;  which  should  I  pursue  ?  In  despera 
tion  I  turned  my  lantern  upon  one,  and  illumined  a  face 
fresh  with  color,  whose  black  eyes  sparkled  askance  after 
the  retreating  figure,  under  straight  black  brows.  In  a 
moment  more  he  was  lost  in  a  false  cul-de-sac,  and  I  found 
it  impossible  to  trace  the  other. 


100  IN  A  CELLAR. 

I  was  scarcely  better  off  than  before ;  but  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  had  obtained  something,  and  that  now  it  was 

wisest  to  work  this  vein.  "  The  butler  of  Madame ." 

There  were  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Madames  in  town. 
I  might  call  on  all,  and  be  as  old  as  the  Wandering  Jew 
at  the  last  call.  The  cellar.  Wine-cellar,  of  course,  — 
that  came  by  a  natural  connection  with  butler,  —  but 
whose  ?  There  was  one  under  my  own  abode  ;  certainly 
I  would  explore  it.  Meanwhile,  let  us  see  the  entertain 
ments  for  Wednesday.  The  Prefect  had  a  list  of  these. 
For  some  I  found  I  had  cards ;  I  determined  to  allot  a 
fraction  of  time  to  as  many  as  possible  ;  my  friends  in  the 
Secret  Service  would  divide  the  labor.  Among  others, 
Madame  de  St.  Cyr  gave  a  dinner,  and,  as  she  had  been 
in  the  affair,  I  determined  not  to  neglect  her  on  this  occa 
sion,  although  having  no  definite  idea  of  what  had  been, 
or  plan  of  what  should  be  done.  I  decided  not  to  speak 
of  this  occurrence  to  Hay,  since  it  might  only  bring  him 
off  some  trail  that  he  had  struck. 

Having  been  provided  with  keys,  early  on  the  following 
evening  I  entered  the  wine-cellar,  and,  concealed  in  an 
empty  cask  that  would  have  held  a  dozen  of  me,  waited  for 
.something  to  turn  up.  Really,  when  I  think  of  myself,  a 
diplomate,  a  courtier,  a  man-about-town,  curled  in  a  dusty, 
musty  wine-barrel,  I  am  moved  with  vexation  and  laugh 
ter.  Nothing,  however,  turned  up,  —  and  at  length  I  re 
tired  baffled.  The  next  night  came,  —  no  news,  no 
identification  of  my  black-browed  man,  no  success ;  but 
I  felt  certain  that  something  must  transpire  in  that  cellar. 
I  don't  know  why  I  had  pitched  upon  that  one  in  partic 
ular,  but,  at  an  earlier  hour  than  on  the  previous  night,  I 
again  donned  the  cask.  A  long  time  must  have  elapsed; 
dead  silence  filled  the  spacious  vaults,  except  where  now 


IN  A  CELLAR.  101 

and  then  some  Sillery  cracked  the  air  with  a  quick  explo 
sion,  or  some  newer  wine  bubbled  round  the  bung  of  its 
barrel  with  a  faint  effervescence.  I  had  no  intention  of 
leaving  this  place  till  morning,  but  it  suddenly  appeared 
like  the  most  woful  waste  of  time.  The  master  of  this 
tremendous  affair  should  be  abroad  and  active ;  who 
knew  what  his  keen  eyes  might  detect;  what  loss  his 
absence  might  occasion  in  this  nick  of  time  ?  And  here 
he  was,  shut  up  and  locked  in  a  wine-cellar  !  I  began  to 
be  very  nervous ;  I  had  already,  with  aid,  searched  every 
crevice  of  the  cellar;  and  now  I  thought  it  would  be 
some  consolation  to  discover  the  thief,  if  I  never  regained 
the  diamond.  A  distant  clock  tolled  midnight.  There 
was  a  faint  noise,  —  a  mouse  ?  —  no,  it  was  too  pro 
longed; —  nor  did  it  sound  like  the  fiz  of  Champagne;  — 
a  great  iron  door  was  turning  on  its  hinges ;  a  man  with 
a  lantern  was  entering;  another  followed,  and  another. 
They  seated  themselves.  In  a  few  moments,  appearing 
one  by  one  and  at  intervals,  some  thirty  people  were  in 
the  cellar.  "Were  they  all  to  share  in  the  proceeds  of  the 
diamond  ?  With  what  jaundiced  eyes  we  behold  things  ! 
I  myself  saw  all  that  was  only  through  the  lens  of  this 
diamond,  of  which  not  one  of  these  men  had  ever  heard. 
As  the  lantern  threw  its  feeble  glimmer  on  this  group, 
and  I  surveyed  them  through  my  loophole,  I  thought  I 
had  never  seen  so  wild  and  savage  a  picture,  such  enor 
mous  shadows,  such  bold  outline,  such  a  startling  flash  on 
the  face  of  their  leader,  such  light  retreating  up  the 
threatening  arches.  More  resolute  brows,  more  deter 
mined  words,  more  unshrinking  hearts,  I  had  not  met. 
In  fact,  I  found  myself  in  the  centre  of  a  conspiracy,  a 
society  as  vindictive  as  the  Jacobins,  as  unknown  and 
terrible  as  the  Marianne  of  to-day.  I  was  thunderstruck, 


102  IN  A  CELLAR. 

too,  at  the  countenances  on  which  the  light  fell,  —  men 
the  loyalest  in  estimation,  ministers  and  senators,  million- 
naires  who  had  no  reason  for  discontent,  dandies  whose 
reason  was  supposed  to  be  devoted  to  their  tailors,  poets 
and  artists  of  generous  aspiration  and  suspected  tenden 
cies,  and  one  woman,  —  Delphine  de  St.  Cyr.  Their 
plans  were  brave,  their  determination  lofty,  their  con 
clave  serious  and  fine ;  yet  as  slowly  they  shut  up  their 
hopes  and  fears  in  the  black  masks,  one  man  bent  toward 
the  lantern  to  adjust  his.  "When  he  lifted  his  face  before 
concealing  it,  I  recognized  him  also.  I  had  met  him 
frequently  at  the  Bureau  of  Police ;  he  was,  I  believe, 
Secretary  of  the  Secret  Service. 

I  had  no  sympathy  with  these  people.  I  had  sufficient 
liberty  myself,  I  was  well  enough  satisfied  with  the 
world,  I  did  not  care  to  revolutionize  France ;  but  my 
heart  rebelled  at  the  mockery,  as  this  traitor  and  spy, 
this  creature  of  'a  system  by  which  I  gained  my  fame, 
showed  his  revolting  face  and  veiled  it  again.  And  Del 
phine,  what  had  she  to  do  with  them  ?  One  by  one,  as 
they  entered,  they  withdrew,  and  I  was  left  alone  again. 
But  all  this  was  not  my  diamond. 

Another  hour  elapsed.  Again  the  door  opened,  and 
remained  ajar.  Some  one  entered,  whom  I  could  not 
see.  There  was  a  pause,  —  then  a  rustle,  —  the  door 
creaked  ever  so  little.  "Art  thou  there?"  lisped  a 
shrill  whisper,  —  a  woman,  as  I  could  guess. 

"  My  angel,  it  is  I,"  was  returned,  a  semitone  lower. 
She  approached,  he  advanced,  and  the  consequence  was 
a  salute  resonant  as  the  smack  with  which  a  Dutch  bur 
gomaster  may  be  supposed  to  set  down  his  mug.  I  was 
prepared  for  anything.  Ye  gods!  if  it  should  be  Del 
phine  !  But  the  base  suspicion  was  birth-strangled  as 


IN  A  CELLAR.  103 

they  spoke  again.  The  conversation  which  now  ensued 
between  these  lovers  under  difficulties  was  tender  and 
affecting  beyond  expression.  I  had  felt  guilty  enough 
when  an  unwilling  auditor  of  the  conspirators,  —  since, 
though  one  employs  spies,  one  does  not  therefore  act  that 
part  one's  self,  but  on  emergencies,  —  an  unwillingness 
which  would  not,  however,  prevent  my  turning  to  advan 
tage  the  information  gained ;  but  here,  to  listen  to  this  re 
hearsal  of  woes  and  blisses,  this  ah  man  Femand,  this  aria 
in  an  area,  growing  momently  more  fervent,  was  too  much. 
I  overturned  the  cask,  scrambled  upon  my  feet,  and  fled 
from  the  cellar,  leaving  the  astounded  lovers  to  follow, 
while,  agreeably  to  my  instincts,  and  regardless  of  the 
diamond,  I  escaped  the  embarrassing  predicament. 

At  length  it  grew  to  be  noon  of  the  appointed  day. 
Nothing  had  transpired ;  all  our  labor  was  idle.  I  felt, 
nevertheless,  more  buoyant  than  usual,  —  whether  be 
cause  I  was  now  to  put  my  fate  to  the  test,  or  that  to-day 
was  the  one  of  which  my  black-browed  man  had  spoken, 
and  I  therefore  entertained  a  presentiment  of  good  for 
tune,  I  cannot  say.  But  when,  in  unexceptionable 
toilet,  I  stood  on  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  steps,  my  heart 
sunk.  G.  was  doubtless  already  within,  and  I  thought 
of  the  marchand  des  armures'  exclamation,  "  Queen  of 
Heaven,  Monsieur !  how  shall  I  meet  him ! "  I  was 
plunged  at  once  into  the  profoundest  gloom.  Why  had 
I  undertaken  the  business  at  all  ?  This  interference,  this 
good-humor,  this  readiness  to  oblige,  —  it  would  ruin  me 
yet!  I  forswore  it,  as  Falstaff  forswore  honor.  Why 
needed  I  to  meddle  in  the  melee  ?  Why  —  But  I  was 
no  catechumen.  Questions  were  useless  now.  My  emo 
tions  are  not  chronicled  on  my  face,  I  flatter  myself ;  and 
with  my  usual  repose  I  saluted  our  hostess.  Greeting  G 


104  IN  A  CELLAR, 

without  any  allusion  to  the  diamond,  the  absence  of  which 
allusion  he  received  as  a  point  of  etiquette,  I  was  con 
versing  with  Mrs.  Leigh,  when  the  Baron  Stahl  was  an 
nounced.  I  turned  to  look  at  his  Excellency.  A  glance 
electrified  me.  There  was  my  dark-browed  man  of  the 
midnight  streets.  It  must,  then,  have  been  concerning 
the  diamond  that  I  had  heard  him  speak.  His  counte 
nance,  his  eager  glittering  eye,  told  that  to-day  was  as 
eventful  to  him  as  to  me.  If  he  were  here,  I  could  well 
afford  to  be.  As  he  addressed  me  in  English,  my  cer 
tainty  was  confirmed ;  and  the  instant  in  which  I  observed 
the  ring,  gaudy  and  coarse,  upon  his  finger,  made  confir 
mation  doubly  sure.  I  own  I  was  surprised  that  anything 
could  induce  the  Baron  to  wear  such  an  ornament.  Here 
he  was  actually  risking  his  reputation  as  a  man  of  taste,  as 
an  exquisite,  a  leader  of  haut  ton,  a  gentleman,  by  the  de 
testable  vulgarity  of  this  ring.  But  why  do  I  speak  so 
of  the  trinket  ?  Do  I  not  owe  it  a  thrill  of  as  fine  joy  as 
I  ever  knew  ?  Faith  !  it  was  not  unfamiliar  to  me.  It 
had  been  a  daily  sight  for  years.  In  meeting  the  Baron 
Stahl  I  had  found  the  diamond. 

The  Baron  Stahl  was,  then,  the  thief?  Not  at  all. 
My  valet,  as  of  course  you  have  been  all  along  aware, 
was  the  thief. 

My  valet,  moreover,  was  my  instructor  ;  he  taught  me 
not  again  to  scour  Cathay  for  what  might  be  lying  under 
my  hand  at  home.  Nor  have  I  since  been  so  acute  as  to 
overreach  myself.  Yet  I  can  explain  such  intolerable 
stupidity  only  by  remembering  that  when  one  has  been  in 
the  habit  of  pointing  his  telescope  at  the  stars,  he  is  not 
apt  to  turn  it  upon  pebbles  at  his  feet. 

The  Marquis  of  G.  took  down  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr ;  Stahl 
preceded  me,  with  Delphine.  As  we  sat  at  table,  G.  was 


IN  A  CELLAR.  105 

at  the  right,  I  at  the  left  of  our  hostess.  Next  G.  sat 
Delphine ;  below  her,  the  Baron ;  so  that  we  were  nearly 
vis-a-vis.  I  was  now  as  fully  convinced  that  Mme.  de  St. 
Cyr's  cellar  was  the  one,  as  the  day  before  I  had  been 
that  the  other  was  ;  I  longed  to  reach  it.  Hay  had  given 
the  stone  to  a  butler  —  doubtless  this  —  the  moment  of  its 
theft  ;•  but,  not  being  aware  of  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  previous 
share  in  the  adventure,  had  probably  not  afforded  her 
another.  And  thus  I  concluded  her  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
game  we  were  about  to  play ;  and  I  imagined,  with  the 
interest  that  one  carries  into  a  romance,  the  little  prelim 
inary  scene  between  the  Baron  and  Madame  that  must 
have  already  taken  place,  being  charmed  by  the  cheerful 
ness  with  which  she  endured  the  loss  of  the  promised 
reward. 

As  the  Baron  entered  the  dining-room,  I  saw  him 
withdraw  his  glove,  and  move  the  jewelled  hand  across 
his  hair  while  passing  the  solemn  butler,  who  gave  it  a 
quick  recognition ;  —  the  next  moment  we  were  seated. 
There  were  only  wines  on  the  table,  clustered  around  a 
central  ornament,  —  a  bunch  of  tall  silver  rushes  and  flag- 
leaves,  on  whose  airy  tip  danced  fleurs-de-lis  of  frosted 
silver,  a  design  of  Delphine's,  —  the  dishes  being  on  side- 
tables,  from  which  the  guests  were  served  as  they  signified 
their  choice  of  the  variety  on  their  cards.  Our  number 
not  being  large,  and  the  custom  so  informal,  rendered  it 
pleasant. 

I  had  just  finished  my  oysters  and  was  pouring  out  a 
glass  of  Chablis,  when  another  plate  was  set  before  the 
Baron. 

"  His  Excellency  has  no  salt,"  murmured  the  butler,  — 
at  the  same  time  placing  one  beside  him.  A  glance,  at 
entrance,  had  taught  me  that  most  of  the  service  was  uni- 
5* 


106  IN  A  CELLAR. 

form ;  this  dainty  little  saliere  I  had  noticed  on  the  buffet, 
solitary,  and  unlike  the  others.  What  a  fool  had  I  been  ! 
Those  gaps  in  the  Baron's  remarks  caused  by  the  paving- 
stones,  how  easily  were  they  to  be  supplied ! 

"  Madame  ?  " 

Madame  de  St.  Cyr. 

"The  cellar?" 

A  salt-cellar, 

How  quick  the  flash  that  enlightened  me  while  I  sur 
veyed  the  saliere  ! 

"  It  is  exquisite !  Am  I  never  to  sit  at  your  table  but 
some  new  device  charms  me  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Is  it 
your  design,  Mademoiselle  ?  "  I  said,  turning  to  Delphine. 

Delphine,  who  had  been  ice  to  all  the  Baron's  ad 
vances,  only  curled  her  lip.  "  JDes  babioles  !  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  cried  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr,  extending  her 
hand  for  it.  "  But  none  the  less  her  taste.  Is  it  not  a 
fairy  thing  ?  A  Cellini !  Observe  this  curve,  these  lines ! 
but  one  man  could  have  drawn  them  ! "  —  and  she  held  it 
for  our  scrutiny.  It  was  a  tiny  hand  and  arm  of  ivory, 
parting  the  foam  of  a  wave  and  holding  a  golden  shell,  in 
which  the  salt  seemed  to  have  crusted  itself  as  if  in  some 
secretest  ocean-hollow.  I  looked  at  the  Baron  a  moment ; 
his  eyes  were  fastened  upon  the  saliere,  and  all  the  color 
had  forsaken  his  cheeks,  —  his  face  counted  his  years. 
The  diamond  was  in  that  little  shell.  But  how  to  obtain 
it  ?  I  had  no  novice  to  deal  with ;  nothing  but  finesse 
would  answer. 

"  Permit  me  to  examine  it  ?  "  I  said.  She  passed  it  to 
her  left  hand  for  me  to  take.  The  butler  made  a  step 
forward. 

"  Meanwhile,  Madame,"  said  the  Baron,  smiling,  "  I 
have  no  salt." 


IN  A   CELLAR.  107 

The  instinct  of  hospitality  prevailed ;  —  she  was  about 
to  return  it.  Might  I  do  an  awkward  thing  ?  Unhesitat 
ingly.  Reversing  my  glass,  I  gave  my  arm  a  wider 
sweep  than  necessary,  and,  as  it  met  her  hand  with  vio 
lence,  the  saliere  fell.  Before  it  touched  the  floor  I 
caught  it.  There  was  still  a  pinch  of  salt  left,  —  nothing 
more. 

"  A  thousand  pardons ! "  I  said,  and  restored  it  to  the 
Baron. 

His  Excellency  beheld  it  with  dismay ;  it  was  rare  to 
see  him  bend  over  and  scrutinize  it  with  starting  eyes. 

"  Do  you  find  there  what  Count  Arnaldos  begs  in  the 
song,"  asked  Delphine,  —  "  the  secret  of  the  sea,  Mon 
sieur  ?  " 

He  handed  it  to  the  butler,  observing,  "  I  find  here 
no  —  " 

"  Salt,  Monsieur  ?  "  replied  the  man,  who  did  not  doubt 
but  all  had  gone  right,  and  replenished  it. 

Had  one  told  me  in  the  morning  that  no  intricate  ma 
noeuvres,  but  a  simple  blunder,  would  effect  this,  I  might 
have  met  him  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 

"  We  will  not  quarrel,"  said  my  neighbor,  lightly,  with 
reference  to  the  popular  superstition. 

"  Rather  propitiate  the  offended  deities  by  a  crumb 
tossed  over  the  shoulder,"  added  I. 

"  Over  the  left  ? "  asked  the  Baron,  to  intimate  his 
knowledge  of  another  idiom,  together  with  a  reproof  for 
my  gaucherie. 

"  A  gauche,  —  quelquefois  c*est  justement  a  droit"  I 
replied. 

"  Salt  in  any  pottage,"  said  Madame,  a  little  uneasily, 
"  is  like  surprise  in  an  individual ;  it  brings  out  the  flavor 
of  every  ingredient,  so  my  cook  tells  me." 


108  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  It  is  a  preventive  of  palsy,"  I  remarked,  as  the  slight 
trembling  of  my  adversary's  finger  caught  my  eye. 

"And  I  have  noticed  that  a  taste  for  it  is  peculiar 
to  those  who  trace  their  blood,"  continued  Madame. 

"  Let  us,  therefore,  elect  a  deputation  to  those  mines 
near  Cracow,"  said  Delphine. 

"  To  our  cousins,  the  slaves  there  ? "  laughed  her 
mother. 

"  I  must  vote  to  lay  your  bill  on  the  table,  Mademoi 
selle,"  I  rejoined. 

"But  with  a  boule  blanche,  Monsieur?" 

"As  the  salt  has  been  laid  on  the  floor,"  said  the 
Baron. 

Meanwhile,  as  this  light  skirmishing  proceeded,  my 
sleeve  and  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  dress  were  slightly  pow 
dered,  but  I  had  not  seen  the  diamond.  The  Baron, 
bolder  than  I,  looked  under  the  table,  but  made  no  dis 
covery.  I  was  on  the  point  of  dropping  my  napkin  to 
accomplish  a  similar  movement,  when  my  accommodating 
neighbor  dropped  hers.  To  restore  it,  I  stooped.  There 
it  lay,  large  and  glowing,  the  Sea  of  Splendor,  the  Moon 
of  Milk,  the  Torment  of  my  Life,  on  the  carpet,  within 
half  an  inch  of  a  lady's  slipper.  Mademoiselle  de  St. 
Cyr's  foot  had  prevented  the  Baron  from  seeing  it ;  now 
it  moved  and  unconsciously  covered  it.  All  was  as  I 
wished.  I  hastily  restored  the  napkin,  and  looked  stead 
ily  at  Delphine,  —  so  steadily,  that  she  perceived  some 
meaning,  as  she  had  already  suspected  a  game.  By  my 
sign  she  understood  me,  pressed  her  foot  upon  the  stone 
and  drew  it  nearer.  In  France  we  do  not  remain  at 
table  until  unfit  for  a  lady's  society,  —  we  rise  with  them. 
Delphine  needed  to  drop  neither  napkin  nor  handker 
chief;  she  composedly  stooped  and  picked  up  the  stone, 
so  quickly  that  no  one  saw  what  it  was. 


IN  A  CELLAR.  109 

"  And  the  diamond  ? "  said  the  Baron  to  the  butler, 
rapidly,  as  he  passed. 

"  It  was  in  the  saliere ! "  whispered  the  astonished 
creature. 

In  the  drawing-room  I  sought  the  Marquis. 

"  To-day  I  was  to  surrender  you  your  property,"  I 
said  ;  "  it  is  here." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  replied,  "  I  thought  I  must  have 
been  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Any  of  our  volatile  friends  here  might  have  been,"  I 
resumed ;  "  for  us  it  is  impossible.  Concerning  this, 
when  you  return  to  France,  I  will  relate  the  incidents ; 
at  present,  there  are  those  who  will  not  hesitate  to  take 
life  to  obtain  its  possession.  A  conveyance  leaves  in 
twenty  minutes ;  and  if  I  owned  the  diamond,  it  should 
not  leave  me  behind.  Moreover,  who  knows  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth  ?  To-morrow  there  may  be  an  emeute. 
Let  me  restore  the  thing  as  you  withdraw." 

The  Marquis,  who  is  not,  after  all,  the  Lion  of  Eng 
land,  pausing  a  moment  to  transmit  my  words  from  his 
ear  to  his  brain,  did  not  afterward  delay  to  make  inquiries 
or  adieux,  but  went  to  seek  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr  and  wish 
her  good-night,  on  his  departure  from  Paris.  As  I 
awaited  his  return,  which  I  knew  would  not  be  imme 
diate,  Delphine  left  the  Baron  and  joined  me. 

"  You  beckoned  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

«  No,  I  did  not." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  come  by  your  desire,  I  am  sure." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  in  the  custom  of 
doing  favors ;  I  have  forsworn  them.  But  before  you 
return  me  my  jewel,  I  risk  my  head  and  render  one  last 
one,  and  to  you." 


110  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  Do  not,  Monsieur,  at  such  price,"  she  responded,  with 
a  slight  mocking  motion  of  her  hand. 

"  Delphine !  those  resolves,  last  night,  in  the  cellar, 
were  daring,  they  were  noble,  yet  they  were  useless." 

She  had  not  started,  but  a  slight  tremor  ran  over  her 
person  and  vanished  while  I  spoke. 

"They  will  be  allowed  to  proceed  no  farther, — the  axe 
is  sharpened ;  for  the  last  man  who  adjusted  his  mask  was 
a  spy,  —  was  the  Secretary  of  the  Secret  Service." 

Delphine  could  not  have  grown  paler  than  was  usual 
with  her  of  late.  She  flashed  her  eye  upon  me. 

"  He  was,  it  may  be,  Monsieur  himself,"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  claim  the  honor  of  that  post." 

"  But  you  were  there,  nevertheless,  —  a  spy ! " 

"  Hush,  Delphine  !  It  would  be  absurd  to  quarrel.  I 
was  there  for  the  recovery  of  this  stone,  having  heard  that 
it  was  in  a  cellar,  —  which,  stupidly  enough,  I  had  insisted 
should  be  a  wine-cellar." 

"It  was,  then  —  " 

"In  a  salt-cellar,  —  a  blunder  which,  as  you  do  not 
speak  English,  you  cannot  comprehend.  I  never  mix 
with  treason,  and  did  not  wish  to  assist  at  your  pastimes. 
I  speak  now,  that  you  may  escape." 

"  If  Monsieur  betrays  his  friends,  the  police,  why 
should  I  expect  a  kinder  fate?" 

"  When  I  use  the  police,  they  are  my  servants,  not  my 
friends.  I  simply  warn  you,  that,  before  sunrise,  you 
will  be  safer  travelling  than  sleeping,  —  safer  next  week 
in  Vienna  than  in  Paris." 

"  Thank  you !  And  the  intelligence  is  the  price  of  the 
diamond  ?  If  I  had  not  chanced  to  pick  it  up,  my  throat," 
and  she  clasped  it  with  her  fingers,  "  had  been  no  slenderer 
than  the  others  ?  " 


IN  A   CELLAR.  Ill 

"  Delphine,  will  you  remember,  should  you  have  occa 
sion  to  do  so  in  Vienna,  that  it  is  just  possible  for  an  Eng 
lishman  to  have  affections,  and  sentiments,  and,  in  fact, 
sensations  ?  that,  with  him,  friendship  can  be  inviolate, 
and  to  betray  it  an  impossibility?  And  even  were  it 
not,  I,  Mademoiselle,  have  not  the  pleasure  to  be  classed 
by  you  as  a  friend." 

"  You  err.     I  esteem  Monsieur  highly." 

I  was  impressed  by  her  coolness. 

"Let  me  see  if  you  comprehend  the  matter,"  I  de 
manded. 

"  Perfectly.  The  arrest  will  be  used  to-night,  the  guil 
lotine  to-morrow." 

"  You  will  take  immediate  measures  for  flight  ?  " 

"No,  —  I  do  not  see  that  life  has  value.  I  shall  be 
the  debtor  of  him  who  takes  it." 

"  A  large  debt.  Delphine,  I  exact  a  promise  of  you. 
I  do  not  care  to  have  endangered  myself  for  nothing.  It 
is  not  worth  while  to  make  your  mother  unhappy.  Life 
is  not  yours  to  throw  away.  I  appeal  to  your  magna 
nimity." 

" '  Affections,  sentiments,  sensations  ! '  "  she  quoted. 
"  Your  own  danger  for  the  affection,  —  it  is  an  affair 
of  the  heart !  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr's  unhappiness,  —  there 
is  the  sentiment.  You  are  angry,  Monsieur,  —  that  must 
be  the  sensation." 

"  Delphine,  I  am  waiting." 

"  Ah,  well.  You  have  mentioned  Vienna,  —  and  why  ? 
Liberals  are  countenanced  there  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  But  Madame  1'Ambassadrice  will 
be  countenanced." 

"  I  do  not  know  her." 

"  We  are  not  apt  to  know  ourselves." 


112  IN  A  CELLAR. 

"  Monsieur,  how  idle  are  these  cross-purposes  !  "  she 
said,  folding  her  fan. 

"  Delphine,"  I  continued,  taking  the  fan,  "  tell  me 
frankly  which  of  these  two  men  you  prefer,  —  the  Mar 
quis  or  his  Excellency." 

"The  Marquis?  He  is  antiphlogistic,  —  he  is  ice. 
Why  should  I  freeze  myself?  I  am  frozen  now,  —  I 
need  fire  ! " 

Her  eyes  burned  as  she  spoke,  and  a  faint  red  flushed 
her  cheek. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  demonstrate  to  me  that  life  has  yet 
a  value  to  you." 

"  I  find  no  fire,"  she  said,  as  the  flush  fell  away. 

"  The  Baron  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  affect  him." 

"  You  will  conquer  your  prejudice  in  Vienna." 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  you,  Monsieur ;  —  you  speak  in 
riddles,  which  I  do  not  like." 

"I  will  speak  plainer.  But  first  let  me  ask  you  for 
the  diamond." 

"  The  diamond  ?  It  is  yours  ?  How  am  I  certified  of 
it  ?  I  find  it  on  the  floor ;  you  say  it  was  in  my  mother's 
saliere  ;  it  is  her  affair,  not  mine.  No,  Monsieur,  I  do 
not  see  that  the  thing  is  yours." 

Certainly  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  relate 
the  story,  which  I  did,  carefully  omitting  the  Baron's 
name.  At  its  conclusion,  she  placed  the  prize  in  my 
hand. 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,"  she  said;  "without  doubt  you 
should  receive  it.  And  this  agent  of  the  government,  — 
one  could  turn  him  like  hot  iron  in  this  vice,  —  who  was 
he?" 

"  The  Baron  Stahl." 


IN  A  CELLAR.  113 

All  this  time  G.  had  been  waiting  on  thorns,  and,  leav 
ing  her  now,  I  approached  him,  displayed  for  an  instant 
the  treasure  on  my  palm,  and  slipped  it  into  his.  It 
was  done.  I  bade  farewell  to  this  Eye  of  Morning 
and  Heart  of  Day,  this  thing  that  had  caused  me  such 
pain  and  perplexity  and  pleasure,  with  less  envy  and 
more  joy  than  I  thought  myself  capable  of.  The  relief 
and  buoyancy  that  seized  me,  as  his  hand  closed  upon 
it,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  portray.  An  abdicated  king 
was  not  freer. 

The  Marquis  departed,  and  I,  wandering  round  the 
salon,  was  next  stranded  upon  the  Baron.  He  was  yet 
hardly  sure  of  himself.  We  talked  indifferently  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  I  ventured  on  the  great  loan.  He  was, 
as  became  him,  not  communicative,  but  scarcely  thought  it 
would  be  arranged.  I  then  spoke  of  Delphine. 

"  She  is  superb  !  "  said  the  Baron,  staring  at  her 
boldly. 

She  stood  opposite,  and,  in  her  white  attire  on  the  back 
ground  of  the  blue  curtain,  appeared  like  an  impersonation 
of  Greek  genius  relieved  upon  the  blue  of  an  Athenian 
heaven.  Her  severe  and  classic  outline,  her  pallor,  her 
downcast  lids,  her  absorbed  look,  only  heightened  the  re 
semblance.  Her  reverie  seemed  to  end  abruptly,  the 
same  red  stained  her  cheek  again,  her  lips  curved  in  a 
proud  smile,  she  raised  her  glowing  eyes  and  observed  us 
regarding  her.  At  too  great  distance  to  hear  our  words, 
she  quietly  repaid  our  glances  in  the  strength  of  her  new 
decision,  and  then,  turning,  began  to  entertain  those  next 
her  with  an  unwonted  spirit. 

"  She  has  needed,"  I  replied  to  the  Baron,  "  but  one 
thing,  —  to  be  aroused,  to  be  kindled.  See,  it  is  done ! 
I  have  thought  that  a  life  of  cabinets  and  policy  might 


114  IN  A  CELLAR. 

achieve  this,  for  her  talent  is  second  not  even  to  her 
beauty." 

"  It  is  unhappy  that  both  should  be  wasted,"  said  the 
Baron.  "  She,  of  course,  will  never  marry." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  For  various  reasons." 

"One?" 

«  She  is  poor." 

"  Which  'will  not  signify  to  your  Excellency.  An 
other?" 

"  She  is  too  beautiful.  One  would  fall  in  love  with 
her.  And  to  love  one's  own  wife  —  it  is  ridiculous  !  " 

"  Who  should  know  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  All  the  world  would  suspect  and  laugh." 

"  Let  those  laugh  that  win." 

"  No,  —  she  would  never  do  as  a  wife ;  but  then  as  —  " 

"  But  then  in  France  we  do  not  insult  hospitality !  " 

The  Baron  transferred  his  gaze  to  me  for  a  moment, 
then  tapped  his  snuff-box,  and  approached  tne  circle 
round  Delphine. 

It  was  odd  that  we,  the  arch  enemies  of  the  hour, 
could  speak  without  the  intervention  of  seconds ;  but  I 
hoped  that  the  Baron's  conversation  might  bq  diverting,  — 
the  Baron  hoped  that  mine  might  be  didactic. 

They  were  very  gay  with  Delphine.  He  leaned  on  the 
back  of  a  chair  and  listened.  One  spoke  of  the  new  gal 
lery  of  the  Tuileries,  and  the  five  pavilions,  —  a  remark 
which  led  us  to  architecture. 

"  We  all  build  our  own  houses,"  said  Delphine,  at  last, 
"  and  then  complain  that  they  cramp  us  here,  and  the  wind 
blows  in  there,  while  the  fault  is  not  in  the  order,  but  in 
us,  who  increase  here  and  shrink  there  without  reason." 

"  You  speak  in  metaphors,"  said  the  Baron. 


IN  A  CELLAR.  115 

"  Precisely.  A  truth  is  often  more  visible  veiled  than 
nude." 

"We  should  soon  exhaust  the  orders,"  I  interposed; 
"  for  who  builds  like  his  neighbor  ?  " 

"  Slight  variations,  Monsieur  !  Though  we  take  such 
pains  to  conceal  the  style,  it  is  not  difficult  to  tell  the  or 
der  of  architecture  chosen  by  the  builders  in  this  room. 
My  mother,  for  instance,  —  you  perceive  that  her  pavil 
ion  would  be  the  florid  Gothic." 

"  Mademoiselle's  is  the  Doric,"  I  said. 

"  Has  been,"  she  murmured,  with  a  quick  glance. 

"  And  mine,  Mademoiselle  ?  "  asked  the  Baron,  indif 
ferently. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,"  she  returned,  looking  serenely  upon 
him,  "  when  one  has  all  the  winning  cards  in  hand  and 
yet  loses  the  stake,  we  allot  him  un  pavilion  chinois"  — 
which  was  the  polite  way  of  dubbing  him  Court  Fool. 

The  Baron's  eyes  fell.  Vexation  and  alarm  were  vis 
ible  on  his  contracted  brow.  He  stood  in  meditation  for 
some  time.  It  must  have  been  evident  to  him  that  Del- 
phine  knew  of  the  recent  occurrences,  —  that  here  in 
Paris  she  could  denounce  him  as  the  agent  of  a  felony, 
the  participant  of  a  theft.  What  might  prevent  it  ? 
Plainly  but  one  thing:  no  woman  would  denounce  her 
husband.  He  had  scarcely  contemplated  this  step  on 
arrival. 

The  guests  were  again  scattered  in  groups  round  the 
room.  I  examined  an  engraving  on  an  adjacent  table. 
Delphine  reclined  as  lazily  in  a  fauteuil  as  if  her  life  did 
not  hang  in  the  balance.  The  Baron  drew  near. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  you  allotted  me  just  now  a 
cap  and  bells.  If  two  should  wear  it  ?  —  if  I  should  in 
vite  another  into  my  pavilion  chinois  f  —  if  I  should  pro- 


116  IN  A   CELLAR. 

pose  to  complete  an  alliance,  desired  by  my  father,  with 
the  ancient  family  of  St.  Cyr  ?  —  if,  in  short,  Mademoi 
selle,  I  should  request  you  to  become  my  wife  ?  " 

"  JSh,  bien,  Monsieur,  —  and  if  you  should  ?  "  I  heard 
her  coolly  reply. 

But  it  was  no  longer  any  business  of  mine.  I  rose  and 
sought  Mme.  de  St.  Cyr,  who,  I  thought,  was  slightly  un 
easy,  perceiving  some  mystery  to  be  afloat.  After  a  few 
words,  I  retired. 

Archimedes,  as  perhaps  you  have  never  heard,  needed 
only  a  lever  to  move  the  world.  Such  a  lever  I  had  put 
into  the  hands  of  Delphine,  with  which  she  might  move, 
not  indeed  the  grand  globe,  with  its  multiplied  attractions, 
relations,  and  affinities,  but  the  lesser  world  of  circum 
stances,  of  friends  and  enemies,  the  circle  of  hopes,  fears, 
ambitions.  There  is  no  woman,  as  I  believe,  but  could 
have  used  it. 

The  next  day  was  scarcely  so  quiet  in  the  city  as  usual. 
The  great  loan  had  not  been  negotiated.  Both  the  Baron 
Stahl  and  the  English  minister  had  left  Paris,  —  and  there 
•was  a  coup  d'etat. 

But  the  Baron  did  not  travel  alone.  There  had  been 
a  ceremony  at  midnight  in  the  Church  of  St.  Sulpice,  and 
her  Excellency  the  Baroness  Stahl,  nee  de  St.  Cyr,  ac 
companied  him. 

It  is  a  good  many  years  since.  I  have  seen  the  dia 
mond  in  the  Duchess  of  X.'s  coronet,  once,  when  a  young 
queen  put  on  her  royalty,  —  but  I  have  never  seen  Del 
phine.  The  Marquis  begged  me  to  retain  the  chain,  and 
I  gave  myself  the  pleasure  of  presenting  it,  through  her 
mother,  to  the  Baroness  Stahl.  I  hear,  that,  whenever 
she  desires  to  effect  any  cherished  object  which  the  Baron 


IN  A  CELLAR.  117 

opposes,  she  has  only  to  wear  this  chain,  and  effect  it.  It 
appears  to  possess  a  magical  power,  and  its  potent  spell 
enslaves  the  Baron  as  the  lamp  and  ring  of  Eastern  tales 
enslaved  the  Afrites.  The  life  she  leads  has  aroused  her. 
She  is  no  longer  the  impassive  Silence;  she  has  found 
her  fire.  I  hear  of  her  as  the  charm  of  a  brilliant  court, 
as  the  soul  of  a  nation  of  intrigue.  Of  her  beauty  one 
does  not  speak,  but  her  talent  is  called  prodigious.  What 
impels  me  to  ask  the  idle  question,  If  it  were  well  to  save 
her  life  for  this  ?  Undoubtedly  she  fills  a  station  which, 
in  that  empire,  must  be  the  summit  of  a  woman's  ambi 
tion.  Delphine's  Liberty  was  not  a  principle,  but  a  dis 
satisfaction.  The  Baroness  Stahl  is  vehement,  is  Impe 
rialist,  is  successful.  While  she  lives,  it  is  on  the  top  of 
the  wave ;  when  she  dies  —  ah !  what  business  has 
Death  in  such  a  world  ? 

As  I  said,  I  have  never  seen  Delphine  since  her  mar 
riage.  The  beautiful  statuesque  girl  occupies  a  niche 
into  which  the  blazing  and  magnificent  intrigante  cannot 
crowd.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  disillusioned.  She  has  read 
me  a  riddle,  —  Delphine  is  my  Sphinx. 

As  for  Mr.  Hay,  —  I  once  said  the  Antipodes  were 
tributary  to  me,  not  thinking  that  I  should  ever  become 
tributary  to  the  Antipodes.  But  such  is  the  case  ;  since, 
partly  through  my  instrumentality,  that  enterprising  indi 
vidual  has  been  located  in  their  vicinity,  where  diamonds 
are  not  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  and  the  greatest  rogue  is 
not  a  Baron. 


-&» 


KNITTING    SALE-SOCKS. 


KNITTING    SALE-SOCKS. 


E  'S  took  'ith  all  the  sym't'ms,  —  thet  's  one 
thing  sure !  Dretful  pain  in  hez  back  an' 
Tins,  legs  feel's  ef  they  bed  telegraph-wires 
inside  'era  workin'  fur  dear  life,  head  aches, 
face  fevered,  pulse  at  2.40,  awful  stetch  in  the  side,  an* 
pressed  fur  breath.  You  guess  it 's  neuralogy,  Lurindy  ? 
I  do'no'  nothing  abeout  yer  high-flyin'  names  fur  rheu- 
matiz.  /  don't  guess  so ! " 

"But,  Aunt  Mirny,  what  do  you  guess?"  asked  mother. 
"  I  don'  guess  nothin'  at  all,  —  I  nigh  abeout  know ! " 
«  Well,  —  you  don't  think  it 's  —  " 
"  I  on'y  wish  it  mebbe  the  veryaloud,  —  I  on'y  wish  it 
mebbe.     But  that  '&  tew  good  luck  ter  happen  ter  one  o' 
the  name.    No,  Miss  Ruggles,  I  —  think  —  it 's  —  the  raal 
article  at  first  hand." 

"  Goodness,  Aunt  Mirny !  what  —  " 
"Yes,  I  du;  an'  you'll  all  hev  it  stret  through  the 
femily,  every  one ;  you  need  n't  expect  ter  go  scot-free, 
Emerline,  'ith  all  your  rosy  cheeks ;  an'  you  '11  all  hev  ter 
stay  in  canteen  a  month  ter  the  least ;  an'  ef  you  're  none 
o'  yer  perfected  by  vaticination,  I  reckon  I  —  " 

"  Well,  Aunt  Mirny,  if  that 's  your  opinion,  I  '11  harness 
the  filly  and  drive  over  for  Dr.  Sprague." 
6 


122  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"  Lor' !  yer  no  need  ter  du  thet,  Miss  Ruggles,  —  I  kin 
kerry  yer  all  through  jest  uz  well  uz  Dr.  Sprague,  an'  a 
sight  better,  ef  the  truth  wuz  knowed.  I  tuk  Miss  Dea 
con  Smiler  an'  her  hull  femily  through  the  measles  an' 
hoopin'-cough,  like  a  parcel  o'  pigs,  this  fall.  —  They  do 
say  Jane 's  in  a  poor  way  an'  Nathan'l  's  kind  o'  declinin' ; 
but,  uz  I  know  they  say  it  jest  ter  spite  me,  I  don'  so  much 
mind.  You  a'n't  gwine  now,  be  ye  ?" 

"  There 's  safety  in  a  multitude  of  counsellors,  you 
know,  Aunt  Mirny,  and  I  think  on  the  whole  I  had  best." 

"Wai!  ef  that's  yer  delib'rate  ch'ice  betwixt  Dr. 
Sprague  an'  me,  ye  kin  du  ez  ye  like.  I  never  force  my 
advice  on  no  one,  'xcept  this, —  I  'd  advise  Emerline  there 
ter  throw  them  socks  inter  the  fire ;  there  '11  never  none 
o'  them  be  fit  ter  sell,  'nless  she  wants  ter  spread  the  dis 
ease.  Wai,  I  'm  sorry  yer  Ve  concluded  ter  hev  thet  old 
quack  Sprague  ;  never  hed  no  more  diplomy  'n  me  ;  don* 
b'lieve  he  knows  cow-pox  from  kine,  when  he  sees  it. 
The  poor  young  man 's  hed  his  last  well  day,  I  'm  afeard. 
Good-day  ter  ye  ;  say  good-by  fur  me  ter  Stephen.  I'll 
call  ag'in,  ef  ye  happen  ter  want  any  one  to  lay  him 
eout." 

And,  staying  to  light  .her  little  black  pipe,  she  jerked 
together  the  strings  of  her  great  scarlet  hood,  wrapped 
her  cloak  round  her  like  a  sentinel  at  muster,  and  went 
puffing  down  the  hill  like  a  steamboat. 

Aunt  Mirny  Ruggles  was  n't  any  relation  to  us,  I 
would  n't  have  you  think,  though  our  name  was  Ruggles, 
too.  Aunt  Mirny  used  to  sell  herbs,  and  she  rose  from 
that  to  taking  care  of  the  sick,  and  so  on,  till  once  Dr. 
Sprague  having  proved  that  death  came  through  her  igno 
rance,  she  had  to  abandon  some  branches  of  her  art ;  and 
she  was  generally  roaming  round  the  neighborhood,  seek- 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  123 

ing  whom  she  could  devour  in  the  others.  And  so  she 
came  into  our  house  just  at  dinner-time,  and  mother 
asked  her  to, sit  by,  and  then  mentioned  Cousin  Stephen, 
and  she  went  up  to  see  him,  and  so  it  was. 

Now  it  can't  be  pleasant  for  any  family  to  have  such  a 
thing  turn  up,  especially  if  there  '&  a  pretty  girl  in  it ;  and 
I  suppose  I  was  as  pretty  as  the  general  run,  at  that  time, 

—  perhaps  Cousin  Stephen  thought  a  trifle  prettier ;  pink 
cheeks,  blue  eyes,  and  hair  the  color  and  shine  of  a  chest 
nut  when  it  bursts  the  burr,  can't  be  had  without  one 's 
rather  pleassCnt-looking ;  and  then  I  'm  very  good-natured 
and  quick-tempered,  and  I  've  got  a  voice  for  singing,  and 
I  sing  in  the  choir,  and  a'n't  afraid  to  open  my  mouth. 
I  don't  look  much  like   Lurindy,  to  be  sure ;   but  then 
Lurindy  's  an  old  maid,  —  as  much  as  twenty-five,  —  and 
don't  go  to  singing-school.  —  At  least,  these  thoughts  ran 
through  my  head  as  I  watched  Aunt  Mirny  down  the  hill. 

—  Lurindy  a'n't  so  very  pretty,  I  continued  to  think,  —  but 
she 's  so  very  good,  it  makes  up.     At  sewing-circle  and 
quilting  and  frolics,  I  'm  as  good  as  any ;  but  somehow 
I  'm  never  any  'count  at  home  ;  that 's  because  Lurindy  is 
by,   at   home.     Well,  Lurindy  has  a   little   box  in  her 
drawer,  and  there 's  a  letter  in  it,  and  an  old  geranium- 
leaf,  and  a  piece  of  black  silk  ribbon  that  looks  too  broad 
for  anything  but  a  sailor's  necktie,  and  a  shell.     I  don't 
know  what  she  wants  to  keep  such  old  stuff  for,  I  'm  sure. 

We  were  none  so  rich,  —  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  tell 
the  truth,  that  we  were  nearly  as  poor  as  poor  can  be. 
We  'd  the  farm,  but  it 's  such  a  small  one  that  mother  and 
I  could  carry  it  on  ourselves,  with  now  and  then  a  day's 
help  or  a  bee,  —  but  a  bee 's  about  as  broad  as  it  is  long, 

—  and  we  raised  just  enough  to  help  the  year  out,  but 
did  n't  sell.    We  had  a  cow  and  the  filly  and  some  sheep ; 


124  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

and  mother  sheared  and  carded,  and  Lurindy  spun,  —  I 
can't  spin,  it  makes  my  head  swim,  —  and  I  knit,  knit 
socks  and  sold  them.  Sometimes  I  had  needles  almost 
as  big  as  a  pipe-stem,  and  chose  the  coarse,  uneven  yarn 
of  the  tags,  and  then  the  work  went  off  like  machinery. 
Why,  I  can  knit  two  pair,  and  sometimes  three,  a  day, 
and  get  just  as  much  for  them  as  I  do  for  the  nice  ones,  — 
they  're  warm.  But  when  I  want  to  knit  well,  as  I  did 
the  day  Aunt  Mirny  was  in,  I  take  my  best  blue  needles 
and  my  fine  white  yarn  from  the  long  wool,  and  it  keeps 
me  from  daybreak  till  sundown  to  knit  one  p^ir.  I  don't 
know  why  Aunt  Jemimy  should  have  said  what  she  did 
about  my  socks  ;  I  'm  sure  Stephen  had  n't  been  any 
nearer  them  than  he  had  to  the  cabbage-bag  Lurindy  was 
netting,  and  there  was  n't  such  a  nice  knitter  in  town  as 
I,  everybody  will  tell  you.  She  always  did  seem  to  take 
particular  pleasure  in  hectoring  and  badgering  me  to 
death. 

Well,  I  was  n't  going  to  be  put  down  by  Aunt  Mirny, 
so  I  made  the  needles  fly  while  mother  was  gone  for  the 
doctor.  By  and  by  I  heard  a  knock  up  in  Stephen's 
room,  —  I  suppose  he  wanted  something,  —  but  Lurindy 
did  n't  hear  it,  and  I  did  n't  so  much  want  to  go,  so  I  sat 
still  and  began  to  count  out  loud  the  stitches  to  my  nar- 
rowings.  By  and  by  he  knocked  again. 

"  Lurindy,"  says  I,  "  a'n't  that  Steve  a-knocking  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  —  "  why  don't  you  go  ?  "  —  for  I  had 
been  tending  him  a  good  deal  that  day. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  there 's  a  number  of  reasons  ;  one  is, 
I  'm  just  binding  off  my  heel." 

Lurindy  looked  at  me  a  minute,  then  all  at  once  she 
smiled. 

"  Well,  Emmy,"  says  she,  "  if  you  like  a  smooth  skin 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  125 

more  than  a  smooth  conscience,  you  're  welcome,"  —  and 
went  up-stairs  herself. 

I  suppose  I  had  ought  to  V  gone,  and  I  suppose  I  'd 
ought  to  wanted  to  have  gone,  but  somehow  it  was  n't  so 
much  fear  as  that  I  did  n't  want  to  see  Stephen  himself 
now.  So  Lurindy  stayed  up  chamber,  and  was  there 
when  mother  and  the  doctor  come.  And  the  doctor  said 
he  feared  Aunt  Mirny  was  right,  and  nobody  but  mother 
and  Lurindy  must  go  near  Stephen,  (you  see,  he  found 
Lurindy  there,)  and  they  must  have  as  little  communica 
tion  with  me  as  possible.  And  his  boots  creaked  down 
the  back-stairs,  and  then  he  went. 

Mother  came  down  a  little  while  after,  for  some  water 
to  put  on  Stephen's  head,  which  was  a  good  deal  worse, 
she  said ;  and  about  the  middle  of  the  evening  I  heard 
her  crying  for  me  to  come  and  help  them  hold  him,  —  he 
was  raving.  I  did  n't  go  very  quick  ;  I  said,  "  Yes,  — 
just  as  soon  as  I  've  narrowed  off  my  toe."  And  when  at 
last  I  pushed  back  my  chair  to  go,  mother  called  in  a  dis 
approving  voice,  and  said  that  they  'd  got  along  without 
me  and  I'd  better  go  to  bed. 

Well,  after  I  was  in  bed  I  began  to  remember  all  that 
had  happened  lately.  Somehow  my  thoughts  went  back 
to  the  first  time  Cousin  Stephen  came  to  our  place,  when 
I  was  a  real  little  girl,  and  mother  'd  sent  me  to  the  well 
and  I  had  dropped  the  bucket  in,  and  he  ran  straight 
down  the  green  slippery  stones  and  brought  it  up,  laugh 
ing.  Then  I  remembered  how  we  'd  birds-nested  togeth 
er,  and  nutted,  and  come  home  on  the  hay-carts,  and  how 
we  'd  been  in  every  kind  of  fun  and  danger  together ;  and 
how,  when  my  new  Portsmouth  lawn  took  fire,  at  Martha 
Smith's  apple-paring,  he  caught  me  right  in  his  arms  and 
squeezed  out  the  fire  with  his  own  hands  ;  and  how,  when 


126  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

he  saw  once  I  had  a  notion  of  going  with  Elder  Hooper's 
son  James,  he  stepped  aside  till  I  saw  what  a  nincom  Jim 
Hooper  was,  and  then  he  appeared  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened,  and  was  just  as  good  as  ever  ;  and  how,  when  the 
ice  broke  on  Deacon  Smith's  pond,  and  I  fell  in,  and  the 
other  boys  were  all  afraid,  Steve  came  and  saved  my  life 
again  at  risk  of  his  own  ;  and  how  he  always  seemed  to 
think  the  earth  was  n't  good  enough  for  me  to  walk  on  ; 
and  how  I  'd  wished,  time  and  again,  I  might  have  some 
way  to  pay  him  back ;  and  here  it  was,  and  I  'd  failed 
him.  Then  I  remembered  how  I  'd  been  to  his  place  in 
Berkshire,  —  a  rich  old  farm,  with  an  orchard  that  smelled 
like  the  Spice  Islands  in  the  geography,  with  apples  and 
pears  and  quinces  and  peaches  and  cherries  and  plums,  — 
and  how  Stephen's  mother,  Aunt  Emeline,  had  been  as 
kind  to  me  as  one's  own  mother  could  be.  But  now  Aunt 
Emeline  and  Uncle  'Siah  were  dead,  and  Stephen  came  a 
good  deal  oftener  over  the  border  than  he  'd  any  right  to. 
To-day,  he  brought  some  of  those  new  red-streaks,  and 
wanted  mother  to  try  them ;  next  time,  they  'd  made  a 
lot  more  maple-sugar  on  his  place  than  he  wanted ;  and 
next  time,  he  thought  mother's  corn  might  need  hoeing, 
or  it  was  fine  weather  to  get  the  grass  in :  I  don't  know 
what  we  should  have  done  without  him.  Then  I  thought 
how  Stephen  looked,  the  day  he  was  pall-bearer  to  Charles 
Payson,  who  was  killed  sudden  by  a  fall,  —  so  solemn 
and  pale,  nowise  craven,  but  just  up  to  the  occasion,  so 
that,  when  the  other  girls  burst  out  crying  at  sight  of  the 
coffin  and  at  thought  of  Charlie,  I  cried,  too,  —  but  it  was 
only  because  Stephen  looked  so  beautiful.  Then  I  re 
membered  how  he  looked  the  other  day  when  he  came, 
his  cheeks  were  so  red  with  the  wind,  and  his  hair,  those 
bright  curls,  was  all  blown  about,  and  he  laughed  with 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  127 

the  great  hazel  eyes  he  has,  and  showed  his  white 
teeth ;  —  and  now  his  beauty  would  be  spoiled,  and 
he  'd  never  care  for  me  again,  seeing  I  had  n't  cared 
for  him.  And  the  wind  began  to  come  up  ;  and  it  was 
so  lonesome  and  desolate  in  that  little  bed-room  down 
stairs,  I  felt  as  if  we  were  all  buried  alive;  and  I 
could  n't  get  to  sleep ;  and  when  the  sleet  and  snow 
began  to  rattle  on  the  pane,  I  thought  there  was  n't 
any  one  to  see  me  and  I  'd  better  cry  to  keep  it  com 
pany  ;  and  so  I  sobbed  off  to  dreaming  at  last,  and  woke 
at  sunrise  and  found  it  still  snowing. 

Next  morning,  I  heard  mother  stepping  across  the 
kitchen,  and  when  I  came  out,  she  said  Lurindy  'd  just 
gone  to  sleep  ;  they  'd  had  a  shocking  night.  So  I  went 
and  watered  the  creatures  and  milked  Brindle,  and  got 
mother  a  nice  little  breakfast,  and  made  Stephen  some 
gruel.  And  then  I  was  going  to  ask  mother  if  I  'd  done 
so  very  wrong  in  letting  Lurindy  nurse  Stephen,  instead 
of  me  ;  and  then  I  saw  she  was  n't  thinking  about  that ; 
and  besides,  there  didn't  really  seem  to  be  any  reason 
why  she  should  n't ;  —  she  was  a  great  deal  older  than  I, 
and  so  it  was  more  proper ;  and  then  Stephen  had  n't 
ever  said  anything  to  me  that  should  give  me  a  peculiar 
right  to  nurse  him  more  than  other  folks.  So  I  just 
cleared  away  the  things,  made  everything  shine  like  a 
pin,  and  took  my  knitting.  I  'd  no  sooner  got  the  seam 
set  than  I  was  called  to  send  something  up  on  a  contriv 
ance  mother 'd  rigged  in  the  back-entry  over  a  pulley. 
And  then  I  had  to  make  a  red  flag,  and  find  a  stick,  and 
hang  it  out  of  the  window  by  which  there  were  the  most 
passers.  Well,  I  did  it ;  but  I  did  n't  hurry,  —  I  did  n't 
get  the  flag  out -till  afternoon  ;  somehow  I  hated  to,  it  al 
ways  seemed  such  a  low-lived  disease,  and  I  was  mortified 


128  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

to  acknowledge  it,  and  I  knew  nobody  'd  come  near  us  for 
so  long,  —  though  goodness  knows  I  did  n't  want  to  see 
anybody.  Well,  when  that  was  done,  Lurindy  came 
down,  and  I  had  to  get  her  something  to  eat,  and  then 
she  went  up-stairs,  and  mother  took  her  turn  for  some 
sleep;  and  there  were  the  creatures  to  feed  again,  and 
what  with  putting  on,  and  taking  off,  and  tending  fires, 
and  doing  errands,  and  the  night's  milking,  and  clearing 
the  paths,  I  did  n't  knit  another  stitch  that  day,  and  was 
glad  enough,  when  night  came,  to  go  to  bed  myself. 

Well,  so  we  went  on  for  two  or  three  days.  I  'd  got 
my  second  sock  pretty  well  along  in  that  time, — just 
think  !  half  a  week  knitting  half  a  sock  !  —  and  was  set 
ting  the  heel,  when  in  came  Aunt  Mirny. 

"  I  ain't  afeard  on  it,"  says  she ;  "  don't  you  be  skeert. 
I  jest  stepped  in  ter  see  ef  the  young  man  wuz  approach- 
in'  his  eend." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  he  is  n't,  any  more  than  you  are,  Aunt 
Mirny." 

"  Any  more  'n  I  be  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Don't  you  lose 
yer  temper,  Emerline.  We  're  all  approachin' .it,  but  some 
gits  a  leetle  ahead ;  it  ain't  no  disgrace,  ez  I  knows  on. 
What  yer  doin'  of?  Knittin'  sale-socks  yet?  and,  my 
gracious  !  still  ter  work  on  the  same  pair  !  You  '11  make 
yer  fortin',  Emerline !  " 

I  did  n't  say  anything,  I  was  so  provoked. 

"  I  don'  b'lieve  you  know  heow  ter  take  the  turns  w'en 
yer  mother  a'n't  by  to  help,"  she  continued.  "  Can't  ye 
take  up  the  heel  ?  Widden  ev'ry  fourth.  Here,  let  me ! 
You  won't  ?  Wai,  I  alluz  knowed  you  wuz  mighty  techy, 
Emerline  Euggles,  but  ye  no  need  to  fling  away  in  thet 
style.  Neow  I  '11  advise  ye  ter  let  socks  alone  ;  they  're 
tew  intricate  fur  sech  ez  you.  Mitt'ns  is  jest  abeout 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  129 

'ithin  the  compass  uv  your  mind,  —  mitt'ns,  men's  single 
mitt'ns,  put  up  on  needles  larger  'n  them  o'  yourn  be,  an' 
by  this  rule.  Seventeen  reounds  in  the  wrist,  —  tew  an' 
one 's  the  best  seam  —  " 

"  Now,  Miss  Jemimy,  just  as  if  I  did  n't  know  how  to 
knit  mittens ! " 

"  Wai,  it  seems  you  don't,"  said  she,  "  though  I  don' 
deny  but  you  may  know  heow  ter  give  'em ;  an'  ez  I  alluz 
like  ter  du  w'at  good  I  kin,  I  'm  gwine  ter  show  ye." 

"  Show  away,"  says  I ;  "  but  I  '11  be  bound,  I  've  knit 
and  sold  and  eaten  up  more  mittens  than  ever  you  put 
your  hands  in !  " 

"  Du  tell !  I  'm  glad  to  ha'  heern  you  've  got  such  a 
good  digestion,"  says  she,  hunting  up  a  piece  of  paper  to 
light  her  pipe.  "  Wai,  ez  I  wuz  sayin',"  says  she,  "  tew 
an'  one  's  the  best  seam,  handiest  an'  'lastickest ;  twenty 
stetches  to  a  needle,  cast  up  so  loose  thet  the  fust  one 's 
ter  one  eend  uv  the  needle  an'  the  last  ter  t'  other  eend,  — 
thet  gives  a  good  pull." 

"  I  guess  your  smoke  will  hurt  Stephen's  head,"  said  I, 
thinking  to  change  her  ideas. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  bother  abeout  Stephen's  head ;  ef  it 
can  't  stan'  thet,  't  ain't  good  for  much.  Wai,  an'  then 
you  set  yer  thumb  an'  knit  plain,  'xcept  a  seam-stetch 
each  side  uv  yer  thumb;  an'  you  widden  tew  stetches, 
one  each  side,  —  s'pose  ye  know  heow  ter  widden  ?  an* 
narry  ?  —  ev'ry  third  reound,  tell  yer  've  got  nineteen 
stetches  across  yer  thumb ;  then  ye  knit,  'ithout  widden- 
in',  a  matter  uv  seven  or  eight  reounds  more,  —  you  lis- 
tenin',  Emerline  ?  " 

"Lor',  Miss  Jemimy,  don't  you  know  better  than  to 
ask  questions  when  I  'm  counting  ?  Now  I  've  got  to  go 
and  begin  all  over  again." 

6*  i 


130  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"  Highty-tighty,  Miss !  You  're  a  weak  sister,  ef  ye 
can't  ceount  an'  chat,  tew.  Wai,  ter  make  a  long  mat 
ter  short,  then  ye  drop  yer  thumb  onter  some  thread  an' 
cast  up  seven  stetches  an'  knit  reound  fur  yer  hand,  an' 
every  other  time  you  narry  them  seven  stetches  away  ter 
one,  fur  the  gore." 

"  Dear  me,  Aunt  Mirny  !  do  be  quiet  a  minute  !  I  be 
lieve  mother 's  a-calling." 

"  I  '11  see,"  said  Aunt  Mirny,  —  and  she  stepped  to  the 
door  and  listened. 

"  No,"  says  she,  coming  back  on  tiptoe,  —  "  an'  you 
didn't  think  you  heern  any  one  neither.  It's  ruther 
small  work  fur  to  be  foolin'  an  old  woman.  Hows  'ever, 
I  don'  cherish  grudges ;  so,  ez  I  wuz  gwine  ter  say,  ye 
knit  thirty-six  reounds  above  wheer  ye  dropped  yer 
thumb,  an'  then  ye  toe  off  in  ev'ry  fifth  stetch,  an'  du  it 
reg'lar,  Emerline;  an'  then  take  up  yer  thumb  on  tew 
needles,  an'  on  t'  other  you  pick  up  the  stetches  I  told  yer 
ter  cast  up,  an'  knit  twelve  reounds,  an'  thumb  off  'ith 
narryin'  ev'ry  third  —  " 

"  Well,  Miss  Jemimy,  I  guess  I  shall  know  how  to 
knit  mittens,  now  ! " 

"  Ef  ye  don't,  't  ain't  my  fault.  When  you  've  fastened 
off  the  eends,  you  roll  'em  up  in  a  damp  towel,  an' 
press  'em  'ith  a  middlin'  warm  iron  on  the  wrong  side. 
There!" 

After  this,  Miss  Mirny  smoked  awhile  in  silence,  sat 
isfied  and  gratified.  At  last  she  knocked  the  ashes  out 
of  her  pipe. 

"  Wai,"  says  she,  "  I  must  be  onter  my  feet.  I  'd  liked 
ter  seen  yer  ma,  but  I  won't  disturb  her,  an'  you  can  du 
ez  well.  Yer  ma  promised  me  a  mess  o'  tea,  an'  I  guess 
I  may  ez  well  take  it  neow  ez  any  day." 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  131 

"  Why,  Miss  Mirny,"  said  I,  "  there  a'n't  above  four  or 
live  messes  left,  and  we  can't  get  any  more  till  I  sell  my 
socks." 

"  Wai,  never  mind,  then,  you  can  le'  me  take  one,  an' 
mebbe  I  kin  make  up  the  rest  at  Miss  Smilers's." 

So  I  went  into  the  pantry  to  get  it,  and  Aunt  Mirny 
followed  me,  of  course. 

"  Them 's  nice-lookin'  apples,"  said  she.  "  Come  from 
Stephen's  place  ?  Poor  young  man,  he  won't  never  want 
'em !  S'pose  he  won't  hev  no  objection  ter  my  tryin'  a 
dozen,"  —  and  she  dropped  that  number  into  her  great 
pocket. 

"  Nice-lookin'  butter,  tew,"  said  she.  "  Own  churnin'  ? 
Wai,  you  Idn  du  sunthin', '  Emerline.  Wen  I  wuz  a 
heousekeeper,  I  used  ter  keep  the  femily  in  butter  an'  sell 
enough  to  Miss  Smith,  —  she  thet  wuz  Mary  Breown  — 
ter  buy  our  shoes,  all  off  uv  one  ceow.  S'pose  I  take 
this  pat?" 

I  was  kind  of  dumfoundered  at  first ;  I  forgot  Aunt 
Mirny  was  the  biggest  beggar  in  Rockingham  County. 

"  No,"  says  I,  as  soon  as  I  got  my  breath,  "  I  sha'n't 
suppose  any  such  thing.  You  're  as  well  able  to  make 
your  butter  as  I  am  to  make  it  for  you." 

"  Wai,  Emerline  Ruggles !  I  alluz  knowed  you  wus 
close  ez  the  bark  uv  a  tree  ;  it 's  jest  yer  father's  narrer- 
contracted  sperrit ;  you  don'  favor  yer  ma  a  speck.  She 's 
ez  free  ez  water." 

"If  mother's  a  mind  to  give  away  her  eye-teeth,  it 
don't  follow  that  I  should,"  said  I ;  "  and  I  won't  give  you 
another  atom  ;  and  you  just  clear  out ! " 

"  Wai,  you  kin  keep  yer  butter,  sence  you  're  so  sot  on 
it,  an'  I  '11  take  a  leetle  dust  o'  pork  instead." 
.    "  Let 's  see  you  take  it !  "  said  I. 


132  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"I  guess  I'll  speak  'ith  yer  ma.  I  shall  git  a  con- 
sider'ble  bigger  piece,  though  I  don't  like  ter  add  t'  'er 
steps." 

"  Now  look  here,  Miss  Mirny,"  says  I,  —  "  if  you  '11 
promise  not  to  ask  for  another  thing,  and  to  go  right 
away,  I'll  get  you  a  piece  of  pork." 

So  I  went  down  cellar,  and  fished  round  in  the  pork- 
barrel  and  found  quite  a  respectable  piece.  Coming  up, 
just  as  my  head  got  level  with  the  floor,  what  should  I 
see  but  Miss  Jemimy  pour  all  the  sugar  into  her  bag  and 
•whip  the  bowl  back  on  the  shelf,  and  turn  round  and  face 
me  as  innocent  as  Moses  in  the  bulrushes.  After  she  had 
taken  the  pork,  she  looked  round  a  minute  and  said,  — 

"  Wai,  arter  all,  I  nigh  upon  forgot  my  arrant.  Here 's 
a  letter  they  giv'  me  for  Lurindy,  at  the  post-office ; 
ev'rybody  else's  afeard  ter  come  up  here."  And  by 
and  by  she  brought  it  up  from  under  all  she'd  stowed 
away  there.  "  Thet  jest  leaves  room,"  says  she. 

"  For  what  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Fur  tew  or  three  uv  them  eggs." 

I  put  them  into  her  bag  and  said,  "  Now  you  remem 
ber  your  promise,  Aunt  Mirny ! " 

"  Lor'  sakes ! "  says  she,  "  you  're  in  a  mighty  herry  ter 
git  me  off.  Neow  you  've  got  all  you  kin  out  uv  me,  the 
letter,  'n'  the  mitt'ns,  I  may  go,  may  I  ?  I  niver  see  a 
young  gal  so  furrard  'ith  her  elders  in  all  my  born  days  ! 
I  think  Stephen  Lee 's  well  quit  uv  ye,  fur  my  part,  ef  he 
hed  to  die  ter  du  it.  I  don't  'xpect  ye  ter  thank  me  fur 
w'at  instruction  I  gi'n  ye  ;  —  there 's  some  folks  I  niver 
du  'xpect  nothin'  from;  you  can't  make  a  silk  pus  out  uv 
a  sow's  ear.  Wat  ye  got  thet  red  flag  out  the  keepin'- 
room  winder  fur?  'Cause  Lurindy 's  nussin'  Stephen? 
Wai,  good-day!" 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  133 

And  so  Aunt  Mirny  disappeared,  and  the  pat  of  butter 
with  her. 

I  called  Lurindy  and  gave  her  the  letter,  and  after  a 
little  while  I  heard  my  name,  and  Lurindy  was  sitting  on 
the  top  of  the  stairs  with  her  head  on  her  knees,  and 
mother  was  leaning  over  the  banisters.  Pretty  soon 
Lurindy  lifted  up  her  head,  and  I  saw  she  had  been  cry 
ing,  and  between  the  two  I  made  out  that  Lurindy  'd 
been  engaged  a  good  while  to  John  Talbot,  who  sailed 
out  of  Salem  on  long  voyages  to  India  and  China ;  and 
that  now  he  'd  come  home,  sick  with  a  fever,  and  was 
lying  at  the  house  of  his  aunt,  who  was  n't  well  herself ; 
and  as  he  'd  given  all  his  money  to  help  a  shipmate  in 
trouble,  she  could  n't  hire  him  a  nurse,  and  there  he  was  ; 
and,  finally,  she  'd  consider  it  a  great  favor,  if  Lurindy 
would  come  down  and  help  her. 

Now  Lurindy  'd  have  gone  at  once,  only  she  'd  been 
about  Stephen,  so  that  she  'd  certainly  carry  the  conta 
gion,  and  might  be  taken  sick  herself,  as  soon  as  she  ar 
rived  ;  and  mother  could  n't  go  and  take  care  of  John,  for 
the  same  reason  ;  and  there  was  nobody  but  me.  Lu 
rindy  had  a  half-eagle  that  John  had  given  her  once  to 
keep  ;  and  I  got  a  little  bundle  together  and  took  all  the 
precautions  Dr.  Sprague  advised ;  and  he  drove  me  off  in 
his  sleigh,  and  said,  as  he  was  going  about  sixteen  miles 
to  see  a  patient,  he  'd  put  me  on  the  cars  at  the  nearest 
station.  Well,  he  stopped  a  minute  at  the  post-office,  and 
when  he  came  out  he  had  another  letter  for  Lurindy.  I 
took  it,  and,  after  a  moment,  concluded  I'  d  better  read  it. 

"What  are  you  about?"  says  the  doctor;  "your  name 
is  n't  Lurindy,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  wish  it  was,"  says  I,  "  and  then  I  should  n't  be 
here." 


134  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"  Oh !  you  're  sorry  to  leave  Stephen  ? "  says  he. 
"  Well,  you  can  comfort  yourself  with  reflecting  that 
Lurindy  's  a  great  deal  the  best  nurse." 

As  if  that  was  any  comfort !  If  Lurinda  was  the  best 
nurse,  she  'd  ought  to  have  had  the  privilege  of  taking 
care  of  her  own  lover,  and  not  of  other  folks's.  Besides, 
for  all  I  knew,  Stephen  would  be  dead  before  ever  I 
came  back,  and  here  I  was  going  away  and  leaving  him  ! 
Well,  I  did  n't  feel  so  very  bright ;  so  I  read  the  letter. 
The  doctor  asked  me  what  ailed  John  Talbot.  I  thought, 
if  I  told  him  that  Miss  Jane  Talbot  wrote  now  so  that 
Lurindy  should  n't  come,  and  that  he  was  sick  just  as 
Stephen  was,  he  would  n't  let  me  go.  So  I  said  I  sup 
posed  he  'd  burnt  his  mouth,  like  the  man  in  the  South, 
eating  cold  pudding  and  porridge ;  men  always  cried  out 
at  a  scratch.  And  he  said,  "  Oh,  do  they  ?  "  and  laughed. 

After  about  two  hours'  driving,  there  came  a  scream  as 
if  all  the  panthers  in  Coos  County  were  let  loose  to  yell, 
and  directly  we  stopped  at  a  little  place  where  a  red  flag 
was  hung  out.  I  asked  the  doctor  if  they'd  got  the 
small-pox  here,  too ;  but  before  he  could  answer,  the 
thunder  running  along  the  ground  deafened  me,  and  in  a 
minute  he  had  put  me  inside  the  cars  and  was  off. 

I  was  determined  I  would  n't  appear  green  before  so 
many  folks,  though  I  'd  never  seen  the  cars  before  ;  so  I 
took  my  seat,  and  paid  my  fare  to  Old  Salem,  and  looked 
about  me.  Pretty  soon  a  woman  came  bustling  in  from 
somewhere,  and  took  the  seat  beside  me.  There  she 
fidgeted  round  so  that  I  thought  I  should  have  flown.  ..  ,; 

"  Miss,"  says  she,  at  length,  "  will  you  close  your  win 
dow  ?  I  never  travel  with  a  window  open  ;  my  health  's 
delicate." 

I  tried  to  shut  it,  but  it  would  n't  go  up  or  down,  till  a 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  135 

gentleman  put  out  his  cane  and  touched  it,  and  down  it 
slid,  like  Signor  Blitz.  It  did  seem  as  if  everything 
about  the  cars  went  by  miracle.  I  thanked  him,  but  I 
found  afterward  it  would  have  been  more  polite  not  to 
have  spoken.  After  that  woman  had  done  everything 
she  could  think  of  to  plague  and  annoy  the  whole  neigh 
borhood,  she  got  out  at  Ipswich,  and  somebody  met  her 
that  looked  just  like  our  sheriff;  and  I  should  n't  be  a  bit 
surprised  to  hear  that  she  'd  gone  to  jail.  When  she  got 
out,  somebody  else  got  in,  and  took  the  same  seat. 

"  Miss,"  says  she,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  open 
your  window  ?  this  air  is  stifling." 

And  she  did  everything  that  the  other  woman  did  n't 
do.  When  she  found  I  would  n't  talk,  she  turned  to  the 
young  gentleman  and  lady  that  sat  opposite,  and  that 
looked  as  if  there  was  a  great  deal  too  much  company  in 
the  cars,  and  found  they  would  n't  talk  either,  and  at  last 
she  caught  the  conductor  and  made  him  talk. 

All  this  while  we  were  swooping  over  the  country  in 
the  most  terrific  manner.  I  thought  how  frightened 
mother  and  Lurindy  'd  be,  if  they  should  see  me.  It 
was  no  use  trying  to  count  the  cattle  or  watch  the  fences, 
and  the  birch-trees  danced  rigadoons  enough  to  make  one 
dizzy,  and  we  dashed  through  everybody's  back-yard,  and 
ran  so  close  up  to  the  kitchens  that  we  could  have  seen 
what  they  had  for  dinner,  if  we  had  stayed  long  enough  ; 
and  finally  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  engine  had  run 
away  with  the  driver,  and  John  Talbot  would  never  have 
me  to  tend  him ;  and  I  began  to  wonder,  as  I  saw  the 
sparks  and  cinders  and  great  clouds  of  steam  and  smoke, 
if  those  tornadoes  that  smash  round  so  out  West  in  the 
newspapers  were  n't  just  passenger-trains,  like  us,  off  the 
track,  when  all  at  once  it  grew  as  dark  as  midnight. 


136  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"  Now,"  says  I  to  myself,  "  it 's  certain.  They  've  run 
the  thing  into  the  ground.  However,  we  can  't  go  long 
now." 

And  just  as  I  was  thinking  about  Korah  and  his  troop, 
I  remembered  what  the  Doctor  had  told  me  about  Salem 
Tunnel,  and  it  began  to  grow  lighter,  and  we  began  to  go 
slower,  and  I  picked  up  my  wits  and  looked  about  me 
again.  I  had  only  time  to  notice  that  the  young  gentle 
man  and  lady  looked  very  much  relieved,  and  to  shake 
my  shawl  from  the  clutch  of  the  woman  beside  me,  when 
we  stopped  at  Salem,  safe  and  sound. 

I  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  find  Miss  Talbot's  house, 
but  find  it  I  did ;  and  the  first  thing  she  gave  me  was  a 
scolding  for  coming,  thinking  I  was  Lurindy,  and  her 
tongue  was  n't  much  cooler  when  she  found  I  was  n't ; 
and  then  finally  she  said,  as  long  as  I  was  there,  I  might 
stay ;  and  I  went  right  up  to  see  John,  and  a  sight  he 
was! 

It  was  about  three  months  I  stayed  and  took  the  greater 
part  of  the  care  of  him.  Sometimes  in  the  midnight,  when 
he  was  quite  beside  himself,  and  dreaming  out  loud,  it  was 
about  as  good  as  a  story-book  to  hear  him.  He  told  me 
of  some  great  Indian  cities  where  there  were  men  in 
white,  with  skins  swarthier  than  old  red  Guinea  gold, 
and  with  great  shawls  all  wrought  in  palm-leaves  of  gold 
and  crimson  bound  on  their  heads,  who  could  sink  a  ship 
with  their  lacs  of  rupees ;  and  of  islands  where  the  shores 
came  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  unrolled  like  a  green 
ribbon,  and  brooks  came  sparkling  down  behind  them,  and 
great  trees  hung  above  like  banners,  and  beautiful  women 
came  off  on  rafts  and  skiffs  loaded  with  fruit,  —  the  islands 
set  like  jewels  on  the  back  of  the  sea,  and  the  sky  covered 
them  with  light  and  hung  above  them  bluer  than  the  hang- 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  137 

ings  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  they  sent  long  rivers  of  spice 
out  on  the  air  to  entice  the  sailor  back,  —  islands  where 
night  never  came.  Sometimes,  when  he  talked  on  so,  I 
remembered  that  I  'd  felt  rather  touched  up  when  I  found 
that  Lurindy  'd  had  a  sweetheart  all  this  time,  and  mother 
knew  it,  and  they  'd  never  told  me,  and  I  wondered  how 
it  happened.  Now  it  came  across  me,  that,  quite  a  num 
ber  of  years  before,  Lurindy  had  gone  to  Salem  and 
worked  in  the  mills.  She  didn't  stay  long,  because  it 
did  n't  agree  with  her,  —  the  neighbors  said,  because  she 
was  lazy.  Lurindy  lazy,  indeed !  There  a'n't  one  of  us 
knows  how  to  spell  the  first  syllable  of  that  word.  But 
that 's  where  she  must  have  got  acquainted  with  John 
Talbot.  He  'd  been  up  at  our  place,  too ;  but  I  was  over 
to  Aunt  Emeline's,  it  seems.  But  one  night,  about  this 
time,  I  thought  he  was  dying,  he  'd  got  so  very  low  ;  and 
I  thought  how  dreadful  it  was  for  Lurindy  never  to  see 
him  again,  and  how  it  was  all  my  selfish  fault,  and  how 
maybe  he  would  n't  'a'  died,  if  he  'd  had  her  to  have  taken 
care  of  him ;  and  I  suppose  no  convicted  felon  ever  en 
dured  more  remorse  than  I  did,  sitting  and  watching  that 
dying  man  all  that  long  and  lonely  night.  But  with  the 
morning  he  was  better,  —  they  always  are  a  great  deal 
worse  when  they  are  getting  well  from  it;  he  laughed 
when  the  doctor  came,  and  said  he  guessed  he  'd  weath 
ered  that  gale  ;  and  by  and  by  he  got  well. 

He  meant  to  have  gone  up  and  seen  Lurindy,  after  all, 
but  his  ship  was  ready  for  sea  just  as  he  was ;  and  I 
thought  it  was  about  as  well,  for  he  was  n't  looking  his 
prettiest.  And  so  he  declared  I  was  the  neatest  little 
trimmer  that  ever  trod  water,  and  he  believed  he  should 
know  a  Ruggles  by  the  cut  of  her  jib,  (I  wonder  if  he  'd 
have  known  Aunt  Mirny,)  and  if  ever  he  went  master, 


138  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

he  'd  name  his  ship  for  me,  and  call  it  the  Sister  of  Char 
ity.  And  he  kissed  me  on  both  cheeks,  and  looked  seri 
ous  enough  when  he  sent  his  love  to  Lurindy,  and  went 
away ;  and  no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  Miss  Talbot  said 
I'd  better  have  the  doctor  myself;  and  I  did  n't  sit  up 
again  for  about  three  weeks. 

All  this  time  I  had  n't  heard  a  word  from  home,  and, 
for  all  I  knew,  Stephen  might  be  dead  and  buried.  I 
did  n't  feel  so  very  light-hearted,  you  may  be  sure,  when 
one  day  Miss  Talbot  brought  me  a  letter.  It  was  from 
mother,  and  it  seemed  Stephen  'd  only  had  a  bad  fever, 
and  had  been  up  and  gone  home  for  more  than  a  week. 
So  I  wrote  back,  as  soon  as  I  could,  all  about  John,  and 
how  he  'd  gone  to  sea  again,  and  how  Miss  Talbot,  who 
set  sights  by  John,  was  rather  lonely,  and  I  thought  I  'd 
keep  her  company  a  little  longer,  and  try  a  spell  in  the 
mills,  seeing  that  our  neighbors  did  n't  think  a  girl  had 
been  properly  accomplished  till  she  'd  had  a  term  or  two  in 
the  factory.  The  fact  was,  I  did  n't  want  to  go  home  just 
then ;  I  thought,  maybe,  if  I  waited  a  bit,  my  face  would 
get  back  to  looking  as  it  used  to.  So  I  worked  in  the 
piece-room,  light  work  and  good  pay,  sent  mother  and 
Lurindy  part  of  my  wages,  and  paid  my  board  to  Miss 
Talbot.  She'd  become  quite  attached  to  me,  and  I  to 
her,  for  all  she  was  such  an  old-maidish  thing ;  but  I  'd 
got  to  thinking  an  old  maid  was  n't  such  a  very  bad  thing, 
after  all.  Fourth  of  July  came  at  last,  and  the  mills  were 
closed,  and  I  went  with  some  of  the  other  girls  on  an  ex 
cursion  down  the  harbor ;  and  when  I  got  home,  Miss 
Talbot  told  me  my  Cousin  Stephen  had  been  down  to  see 
me,  and  had  been  obliged  to  go  home  in  the  last  train. 
I  wondered  why  Stephen  did  n't  stay,  and  then  it  flashed 
upon  me  that  she  'd  told  him  all  about  it,  and  he  did  n't 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  139 

want  to  see  me  afterwards.  I  knew  mother  and  Lurindy 
suspected  why  I  did  n't  come  home,  and  now,  thinks  I, 
they  know  ;  but  I  asked  no  questions. 

When  September  came,  I  saw  it  was  n't  any  use  delay 
ing,  and  I  might  as  well  go  back  to  knitting  sale-socks 
then  as  any  time.  However,  I  didn't  go  till  October. 
You  need  n't  think  I  'd  stayed  away  from  the  farm  all 
that  time,  while  the  tender  things  were  opening,  the  tiny 
top-heavy  beans  pushing  up,  the  garden-sarse  greening, 
the  little  grass-blades  two  and  two,  —  while  all  the  young 
creatures  were  coming  forward,  the  chickens  breaking  the 
shell,  and  the  gosling-storm  brewing  and  dealing  destruc 
tion,  —  while  the  strawberries  were  growing  ripe  and  red 
up  in  the  high  field,  and  the  hay  and  clover  were  getting 
in,  —  you  need  n't  think  I  'd  stayed  from  all  that  had  been 
pleasant  in  my  life,  without  many  a  good  heart-ache ;  and 
when  at  last  I  saw  the  dear  old  gray  house  again,  all 
weather-beaten  and  homely,  standing  there  with  its  well- 
sweep  among  the  elms,  I  fairly  cried.  Mother  and  Lu 
rindy  ran  out  to  meet  me,  when  they  saw  the  stage  stop, 
and  after  we  got  into  the  house  it  seemed  as  if  they  would 
never  get  done  kissing  me.  And  mother  stirred  round 
and  made  hot  cream-biscuits  for  tea,  and  got  the  best 
china,  and  we  sat  up  till  nigh  midnight,  talking,  and  I  had 
to  tell  everything  John  did  and  said  and  thought  and 
looked,  over  and  over  again. 

By  and  by  I  unpacked  my  trunk,  and  there  was  a  little 
parcel  in  the  bottom  of  it,  and  I  pulled  it  up. 

"  There,  Lurindy,"  says  I,  "  John  told  me  to  tell  you  to 
have  your  wedding-dress  ready  against  he  came  home,  — 
he 's  gone  mate,  —  and  here  it  is."  And  I  unrolled  the 
neatest  brown  silk  you  ever  saw,  just  fit  for  Lurindy, 
she 's  so  pale  and  genteel,  and  threw  it  into  her  lap.  I  'd 
stayed  the  other  month  to  get  enough  to  buy  it. 


140  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

The  first  thing  Lurindy  did,  by  way  of  thanks,  was  to 
burst  into  tears  and  declare  she  never  could  take  it,  that 
she  never  should  marry  now  ;  and  the  more  I  urged  her, 
the  more  she  cried.  But  at  last  she  said  she  'd  accept  it 
conditionally,  —  and  the  condition  was,  I  should  be  mar 
ried  when  she  was.  '  -^ 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  agreed,  —  if  you  '11  provide  the  neces 
sary  article ;  because  I  can't  very  well  marry  my  shadow, 
and  I  don't  know  any  one  else  that  would  be  fool  enough 
to  have  such  a  little  fright." 

At  that  Lurindy  felt  all  the  worse,  and  it  took  all  the 
spirits  I  had  to  build  up  hers  and  mother's.  I  suppose  I 
was  sorry  to  see  they  felt  so  bad,  (and  they  had  n't  meant 
that  I  should,)  because  it  gave  the  finishing  stroke  to  my 
conviction  ;  and  after  I  was  in  bed,  I  grew  sorrier  still ; 
and  if  I  cried,  't  was  n't  on  account  of  myself,  but  I 
saw  how  Lurindy  'd  always  feel  self-accused,  though  she 
had  n't  ought  to,  whenever  she  looked  at  me,  and  how  all 
her  life  she  'd  feel  my  scarred  face  like  a  weight  on  her 
happiness,  and  think  I  owed  it  to  John,  and  how  intolera 
ble  such  an  obligation,  though  it  was  only  a  fancied  one, 
would  be ;  and  I  saw,  too,  that  it  all  came  from  my  not 
going  up-stairs  that  first  time  when  Stephen  knocked,  — 
because  if  I  had,  I  should  have  been  there  when  the 
doctor  came,  and  Lurindy  'd  have  gone  to  have  taken  care 
of  John  herself,  and  it  would  have  been  her  face  that  was 
ruined  instead  of  mine ;  and  though  it  was  a  great  deal 
better  that  it  should  be  mine,  still  she  'd  have  been  easier 
in  her  mind;  —  and  so  thinking  and  worrying,  I  fell 


Next  day  was  baking-day,  and  Stephen  was  coming  in 
the  afternoon,  and  it  was  almost  five  o'clock  when  we  got 
cleared  away,  and  I  went  up-stairs  to  change  my  dress. 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  141 

I  thought  't  was  n't  any  use  to  trim  myself  out  in  bows 
and  ruffles  now,  so  I  just  put  on  my  brown  gingham  and 
a  white  linen  collar ;  but  Lurindy  came  and  tied  a  pink 
ribbon  at  my  throat,  and  fixed  my  hair  herself,  and  looked 
down  and  said,  — 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  but  you  're  about  as  pretty  as  ever 
you  was?" 

That  almost  finished  me  ;  but  I  contrived  to  laugh,  and 
got  down-stairs.  Mother  'd  run  over  to  the  village  to  get 
.some  yarn  to  knit  up,  for  she'd  used  all  our  own  wool. 
It  was  getting  dark,  and  I  had  just  brought  in  another 
log,  and  hung  the  kettle  on  the  crane.  The  l<5g  had  n't 
taken  fire  yet,  and  there  was  only  a  light  glimmer,  from 
the  coals,  on  the  ceiling.  I  heard  the  back-door  latch 
click,  and  thought  it  was  mother,  and  commenced  hum 
ming  in  the  middle  of  a  tune,  as  if  I  'd  been  humming  the 
rest  and  had  just  reached  that  part ;  but  the  figure  stand 
ing  there  was  a  sight  too  tall  for  mother. 

"  Oh,  Stephen,"  says  I,  —  and  my  heart  jumped  in  my 
throat,  but  I  just  swallowed  it  down,  and  thanked  Heaven 
that  the  evening  was  so  dark,  —  "  is  that  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  stepping  forward,  and  putting  out  his 
hands,  and  making  as  if  he  would  kiss  me.  Just  for  a 
minute  I  hung  back,  then  I  went  and  gave  him  my  hand 
in  a  careless  way. 

"  Yes,"  says  he ;  "  and  I  can't  say  that  you  seem  so 
very  glad  to  see  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  glad.  Did  you  drive 
over  ?  " 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  maybe  you  are  ;  but  I  should  call  it 
a  mighty  cool  reception,  after  almost  a  year's  absence. 
However,  I  suppose  it's  the  best  manners  not  to  show 
any  cordiality ;  you  've  had  a  chance  to  learn  more 


142  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

politeness  down  at  Salem  than  we  have  up  here  in  the 
country." 

I  was  a  little  struck  up  by  Stephen's  running  on  so,  — 
he  was  generally  so  quiet,  and  said  so  little,  and  then  in 
such  short  sentences.  But  in  a  minute  I  reckoned  he 
thought  I  was  nervous,  and  was  trying  to  put  me  at  my 
ease,  —  and  he  knew  of  old  that  the  best  way  to  do  that 
was  to  rouse  my  temper. 

"  I  ha'n't  seen  anybody  at  Salem  better  mannered  'n 
mother  and  Lurindy,"  said  I. 

"  Come  home  for  Thanksgiving  ?  "  asked  Stephen, 
hanging  up  his  coat. 

I  kept  still  a  minute,  for  I  could  n't  for  the  life  of  me 
see  what  I  had  to  give  thanks  for.  Then  it  came  over 
me  what  a  cheery,  comfortable  home  this  was,  and  how 
Stephen  would  always  be  my  kind,  warm-hearted  friend, 
and  how  thankful  I  ought  to  be  that  my  life  had  been 
spared,  and  that  I  was  useful,  that  I  'd  made  such  good 
friends  as  I  had  down  to  Salem,  and  that  I  was  n't  soured 
against  all  mankind  on  account  of  my  misfortune. 

"  Yes,  Stephen,"  says  I,  "  I  've  come  home  for  Thanks 
giving  ;  and  I  have  a  great  deal  to  give  thanks  for." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  he. 

"  Stephen,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  exactly  know,  but  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  I  'd  had  a  change  of  heart." 

"  Don't  know  of  anybody  that  needed  it  less,"  says 
Stephen,  warming  his  hands.  "  However,  if  it  makes 
you  any  more  comfortable,  I  sha'n't  object  ;  except 
the  part  of  it  that  belongs  to  me,  —  I  sha'n't  have  that 
changed." 

The  fire  'd  begun  to  brighten  now,  and  the  room  was 
red  and  pleasant-looking;  still  I  knew  he  couldn't  see 
me  plainly,  and  I  waited  a  minute,  and  lingered  round, 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  143 

pretending  I  was  doing  this  and  the  other,  which  I  was  n't ; 
I  hated  to  break  the  old  way  of  things  ;  and  then  I  took 
the  tongs  and  blew  a  coal  and  lighted  the  dip  and  held  it 
up,  as  if  I  was  looking  for  something.  Pretty  soon  I 
found  it ;  it  was  a  skein  of  linen  thread  I  was  going  to 
wind  for  Lurindy.  Then  I  got  the  swifts  and  came  and 
sat  down  in  front  of  the  candle. 

"  There,"  says  I,  "  the  swifts  is  broken.  What  shall 
I  do?" 

"I'll  hold  the  thread,  if  that's  your  trouble,"  says 
Stephen,  and  came  and  sat  opposite  to  me  while  I 
wound. 

I  wondered  whether  he  was  looking  at  me,  but  I  did  n't 
durst  look  up," —  and  then  I  could  n't,  if  my  life  had  de 
pended  upon  it.  At  last  we  came  to  the  end ;  then  I 
managed  to  get  a  glance  edgeways.  He  hadn't  been 
looking  at  all,  I  don't  believe,  till  that  very  moment, 
when  he  raised  his  eyes. 

"  Are  folks  always  so  sober,  when  they  've  had  a  change 
of  heart  ?  "  he  asked,  with  his  pleasant  smile. 

"  They  are,  when  they  've  had  a  change  of  face,"  I  was 
going  to  say ;  but  just  then  mother  came  in  with  her 
bundle  of  yarn,  and  Lurindy  came  down,  and  there  was 
such  a  deal  of  welcoming  and  talking:  that  I  slipped 
round  and  laid  the  table,  and  had  the  tea  made  before 
they  thought  of  it.  I'd  about  made  up  my  mind  now 
that  Stephen  would  act  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and 
pretend  to  like  me  just  the  same,  because  he  was  so  ten 
der-hearted  and  couldn't  bear  to  hurt  my  feelings  nor 
anybody's ;  and  I  'd  made  up  my  mind,  too,  that,  as  soon 
as  he  gave  me  a  chance,  I  'd  tell  him  I  was  set  against 
marriage :  leastwise,  I  would  n't  have  him,  because  I 
would  n't  have  any  man  marry  me  out  of  pity  ;  and  the 


144  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

more  I  cared  for  him,  the  more  I  could  n't  hamper  an 
ugly  face  on  him  forever.  So,  you  see,  I  had  quite  re 
solved,  that,  cost  me  what  it  would,  I  'd  say  "  No,"  if 
Stephen  asked  me.  Well,  it 's  a  very  good  thing  to  make 
resolutions ;  but  it 's  a  great  deal  better  to  break  them, 
sometimes. 

Having  come  to  my  conclusions,  I  grew  as  merry  as 
any  of  them.  And  when  mother  put  two  spoons  into 
Stephen's  cup,  I  told  him  he  was  going  to  have  a  present. 
And  he  said  he  guessed  he  knew  what  it  was ;  and  I  said 
it  must  be  a  mitten,  I  'd  heard  that  Martha  Smith  had 
taken  to  knitting  lately;  and  he  confounded  Martha 
Smith,  Mother  and  Lurindy  were  very  busy  talking 
about  the  yarn,  and  how  Mr.  Fisher  wanted  the  next 
socks  knit;  and  Stephen  asked  me  what  that  dish  was 
beside  me.  I  said,  it  was  lemon-tart,  and  the  top-crust 
was  made  of  kisses,  and  would  he  have  some  ?  And  he 
said,  he  did  n't  care  for  anybody's  kisses  but  mine,  and  he 
believed  he  would  n't.  And  I  told  him  the  receipt  of  this 
came  from  the  Queen's  own  kitchen.  And  he  said,  he 
did  n't  know  that  the  Queen  of  England  was  any  better 
than  the  Queen  of  Hearts.  Then  I  said,  I  supposed  he 
remembered  how  the  latter  lady  was  served  by  the  Knave 
of  Hearts  in  "  Mother  Goose  "  ?  And  he  replied  that  he 
was  n't  going  to  be  Jack-at-a-pinch  for  anybody.  And  so 
on,  till  mother  finished  tea. 

After  tea,  I  sat  up  to  the  table  and  ended  some  barley- 
trimming  that  I  'd  just  learned  how  to  make  ;  and  as  the 
little  kernels  came  tumbling  out  from  under  my  fingers, 
Stephen  sat  beside  and  watched  them  as  if  it  was  a  field 
of  barley,  growing,  reaped,  and  threshed  under  his  eyes. 
By  and  by  I  finished  it ;  and  then,  rummaging  round  in 
the  table-drawer,  I  found  the  sock  that  I  was  knitting, 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  145 

waiting  at  the  very  stitch  where  I  left  it,  'most  a  year 
ago. 

"  Well,  if  that  is  n't  lucky  ! "  said  I.  And  I  sat  down 
on  a  stool  by  the  fireside,  determined  to  finish  that  sock 
that  night ;  and  no  sooner  had  I  set  the  needles  to  dan 
cing,  like  those  in  the  fairy-story,  than  open  came  the 
kitchen-door  again,  and  in,  out  of  the  dark,  stepped  Aunt 
Mirny. 

"  Good-evenin',  Miss  Ruggles ! "  says  she.  "  Heow  d'  ye 
du,  Emerline  ?  hope  yer  gwine  ter  stay  ter  hum  a  spell. 
Why,  Stephen,  's  this  you  ?  Quite  a  femily-party,  I  de 
clare  fur 't !  Wai,  Miss  Ruggles,  I  got  kind  o'  tired  set- 
tin'  in  the  dark,  an',  ez  I  looked  out  an'  see  the  dips  blaz- 
in'  in  yer  winder,  thinks  I,  I  '11  jest  run  up  an'  see  w'at  's 
ter  pay." 

"  Why,  there  's  only  one  dip,"  says  Lurindy. 

"  Wai,  that 's  better  'n  none,"  answered  Miss  Mirny. 

I  had  enough  of  the  old  Adam  left  in  me  to  be  riled  at 
her  way  of  begging  as  much  as  ever  I  was ;  but  I  saw 
that  Stephen  was  amused ;  he  had  n't  ever  happened  to 
be  round,  when  Aunt  Mirny  was  at  her  tricks. 

"  No,  Miss  Ruggles,"  continued  she,  "  I  thank  the  Lord 
I  ha'n't  got  a  complainin'  sperrit,  an'  hed  jest  ez  lieves 
see  by  my  neighbor's  dip  ez  my  own,  an',  mebbe  ye  '11 
say,  a  sight  lieveser." 

And  then  Miss  Mirny  pulled  out  a  stocking  without  be 
ginning  or  end,  and  began  to  knit  as  fast  as  she  could  rat 
tle,  after  she 'd  fixed  one  needle  in  a  chicken-bone,  and 
pinned  the  chicken-bone  to  her  side. 

"  Wai,  Emerline,"  says  she,  "  I  s'pose  ye  've  got  so 
grand  down  ter  the  mills,  thet,  w'at  'ith  yer  looms  an' 
machines  an'  tic-doloreux,  ye  won't  hev  nothin'  ter  say  ter 
the  old  way  uv  knittin'  socks." 

7  j 


146  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

"  Does  this  look  like  it,  Aunt  Mirny  ?  "  says  I,  shaking 
ray  needles  by  way  of  answer.  "  I  'm  going  to  finish  this 
pair  to-night." 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  you  be,  be  you  ?  Wai,  ef  I  don't 
e'en-a'most  vum  it's  the  same  one!  ef  ye  ha'n't  been 
nigh  abeout  a  hull  year  a-knittin'  one  pair  uv  socks ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  they  're  the  same  pair  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  By  a  mark  I  see  you  sot  in  'em  ter  the  top,  ef  ye  want 
ter  know,  afore  I  thought  it  would  be  hangin'  by  the  eye 
lids  the  rest  uv  yer  days.  Wai,  I  never  'xpected  ye  'd 
be  much  help  ter  yer  mother ;  ye  're  tew  fond  uv  hikin* 
reound  the  village." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Mirny,"  said  Lurindy,  kind  of  indignant, 
"  she 's  always  been  the  greatest  help  to  mother." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have  made  both  ends  meet 
this  year,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  her  wages,"  said  mother. 

Stephen  was  whittling  Miss  Mirny's  portrait  on  the  end 
of  a  stick,  and  laughing.  I  was  provoked  with  mother 
and  Lurindy  for  answering  the  thing,  and  was  just  going 
to  speak  up,  when  I  caught  Stephen's  eye,  and  thought 
better  of  it.  Pretty  soon  Aunt  Mirny  produced  a  bundle 
of  herbs  from  her  pocket,  and  laid  them  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Aunt  Jemimy,"  says  mother.  "  Pen 
nyroyal  and  catnip  's  always  acceptable." 

"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Mirny.  "  An'  I  '11  take  my  pay  in 
some  uv  yer  dried  apples.  Heow  much  does  Fisher  give 
fur  socks,  Miss  Ruggles  ?  "  she  asked,  directly. 

"  Fifty  cents  and  I  find,  — fifteen  and  he  finds." 

"  An'  ye  take  it  out  uv  the  store  ?  Varry  reasonable. 
I  wuz  thinkin'  uv  tryin'  my  han'  myself;  —  businesses 
ruther  dull,  folks  onkimmon  well  this  fall.  Heow  many 
strings  yer  gwine  ter  give  me  fur  the  yarbs  ?  " 

Then  mother  went  up  garret  to  get  the  apples  and 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  147 

spread  the  herbs  to  dry,  and  Lurindy  wanted  some  dif 
ferent  needles,  and  went  after  her.  Stephen 'd  just 
heaped  the  fire,  and  the  big  blaze  was  tumbling  up 
the  chimney,  and  Miss  Mirny  lowered  her  head  and 
looked  over  her  great  horn-bowed  spectacles  at  me. 

"  Wai,  Emerline  Ruggles,"  says  she,  after  a  while,  go 
ing  back  to  her  work,  "  you  've  lost  all  your  pink  cheeks !" 

I  suppose  it  took  me  rather  sudden,  for  all  at  once  a 
tear  sprung  and  fell  right  down  my  work.  I  saw  it  glis 
tening  on  the  bright  needles  a  minute,  and  then  my  eyes 
filmed  so  that  I  felt  there  was  more  coming,  and  I  bent 
down  to  the  fire  and  made  believe  count  my  narrowings. 
After  all,  Aunt  Mirny  was  kind  of  privileged  by  every 
body  to  say  what  she  pleased.  But  Stephen  did  n't  do  as 
every  one  did,  always. 

"  Emmie's  beauty  was  n't  all  in  her  pink  cheeks,  Miss 
Mirny,"  I  heard  him  say,  as  I  went  into  the  back-entry  to 
ask  mother  to  bring  down  the  mate  of  my  sock. 

"Wai,  wherever  it  was,  there's  precious  little  of  it 
left !  "  said  she,  angry  at  being  took  up,  which  maybe 
she  never  was  before  in  her  life. 

"  You  don't  agree  with  her  friends,"  said  he,  cutting  in 
the  stick  the  great  mole  on  the  side  of  her  nose ;  "  they 
all  think  she  's  got  more  than  ever  she  had." 

Mother  tossed  me  down  the  mate,  and  I  went  back. 

"  Young  folks,"  says  Aunt  Mirny,  after  two  or  three 
minutes'  silence,  "  did  ye  ever  hear  tell  o'  'Miah  Kemp  ?  " 

"Any  connection  of  old  Parson  Kemp  in  the  other 
parish?"  asked  Stephen. 

"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Mirny,  —  "  his  brother.  Wai,  w'en 
I  wuz  a  young  gal,  livin'  ter  hum,  —  my  father  wuz  ez 
wealthy  ez  any  farmer  thereabouts,  ye  know,  —  I  used 
to  keep  company  'ith  'Miah  Kemp.  'Miah  was  a  stun- 


148  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

mason,  the  best  there  wuz  in  the  deestrik,  an'  the  harn- 
somest  boy  there  tew,  —  though  I  say  it  thet  should  n't 
say  it,  —  he  hed  close-curlin'  black  hair,  an'  an  arm  it 
done  ye  good  to  lean  on.  Wai,  one  spring  night,  —  I 
mind  it  well,  —  we  wuz  walkin'  deown  the  lane  together, 
an'  the  wind  wuz  blowin',  the  laylocks  wuz  in  bloom,  an* 
all  over-head  the  lane  wuz  rustlin'  'ith  the  great  purple 
plumes  in  the  moonlight,  an'  the  air  wuz  sweeter  'ith  their 
breath  than  any  air  I  've  ever  taken  sence,  an'  ez  we  wuz 
walkin',  'Miah  wuz  askin'  me  fur  ter  fix  eour  weddin'-day. 
Wai,  w'en  he  left  me  at  the  bars,  I  agreed  we  'd  be  mer- 
ried  the  fifteenth  day  uv  July  comin',  an'  I  walked  hum ; 
an'  I  mind  heow  I  wondered  ef  Eve  wuz  so  happy  in 
Paradise,  or  ef  Paradise  wuz  half  so  beautiful  ez  thet 
scented  lane.  The  nex'  mornin',  ez  I  wuz  milkin',  the 
ceow  tuk  fright  an'  begun  ter  cut  up,  an'  she  cut  up  so 
thet  I  run  an'  she  arter  me,  —  an'  the  long  an'  the  short 
uv  it  wuz  thet  she  tossed  me,  an'  w'en  they  got  me  up 
they  foun'  I  hed  n't  but  one  eye.  Wai,  uv  course,  my 
looks  wuz  sp'iled,  —  fur  I  'd  been  ez  pretty  'z  Emerline 
wuz,  —  you  wuz  pretty  once,  Emerline,  —  an'  I  sent 
'Miah  Kemp  word  I  'd  hev  no  more  ter  du  'ith  him  nor 
any  one  else  neow.  'Miah  he  come  ter  see  me ;  but  I 
wuz  detarmined,  an'  I  stuck  ter  my  word.  He  did  an' 
said  everything  thet  mortal  man  could,  —  that  he  loved 
me  better  'n  ever,  an'  thet 't  would  be  the  death  uv  him, 
an'  tuk  on  drefful.  But  w'en  he  'd  got  through,  I  giv' 
him  the  same  answer,  though  betwixt  ourselves  it  ormost 
broke  my  heart  ter  say  it.  I  kep'  a  stiff  upper-lip,  an'  he 
grew  desp'rate,  an'  tuk  all  sorts  uv  dangerous  jobs,  blastin' 
rocks  an'  haulin'  stuns.  One  night,  —  't  wuz  jest  a  year 
from  the  night  I  'd  walked  'ith  him  in  thet  lane,  —  I  wuz 
stan'in'  by  the  door,  an'  all  ter  once  I  heerd  a  noise  an' 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  149 

crash  ez  ef  all  the  thunderbolts  in  the  Almighty's  hand 
hed  fallen  together,  an'  I  run  deown  the  lane  an'  met  the 
men  bringin'  up  sunthin'  on  an  old  door.  They  hed  been 
blastin'  Elder  Payson's  rock,  half-way  deown  the  new 
well,  an'  the  mine  hed  n't  worked,  an'  'Miah  'd  gone 
deown  ter  see  w'at  wuz  in  it;  an'  jest  ez  he  got  up 
ag'in,  off  it  went,  an'  here  he  wuz  'ith  a  great  splinter 
in  his  chist,  —  ef  the  rest  uv  it  wuz  him.  They  could  n't 
kerry  him  no  furder,  an'  sot  him  deown ;  an'  there  wuz 
all  the  trees  a-wavin'  overhead  ag'in,  an'  all  the  sweet 
scents  a-beatin'  abeout  the  air,  jest  uz  it  wuz  a  year  ago 
w'en  he  parted  from  me  so  strong  an'  whole  an'  harnsome; 
all  the  fleowers  wuz  a-blossomin',  all  the  winds  wuz  blowin', 
an'  this  lump  uv  torn  flesh  an'  broken  bones  wuz  'Miah. 
I  laid  deown  on  the  grass  beside  him,  an'  put  my  lips  close 
to  hisn,  an'  I  could  feel  the  breath  jest  stirrin'  between ; 
an'  the  doctor  came  an'  said  't  warn't  no  use ;  an'  they 
threw  a  blanket  over  us,  an'  there  I  laid  tell  the  sun  rose 
an'  sparkled  in  the  dew  an'  the  green  leaves  an'  the  pur 
ple  bunches,  an'  the  air  came  frolickin'  fresh  an'  sweet 
abeout  us  ;  an'  though  I  'd  knowed  it  long,  layin'  the*re  in 
the  dark,  neow  I  see  fur  sartain  thet  there  warn't  no 
breath  on  them  stiff  lips,  an'  the  forehead  was  cold  uz  the 
stuns  beneath  us,  an'  the  eyes  wuz  fixed  an'  glazed  in 
thet  las'  look  uv  love  an'  tortur'  an'  reproach  thet  he  giv* 
me.  •  They  say  I  went  distracted ;  an'  I  du  b'lieve  I  Ve 
be'n  cracked  ever  sence." 

Here  Aunt  Mirny,  who  had  told  her  whole  story  with 
out  moving  a  muscle,  commenced  rocking  violently  back 
and  forth. 

"I  don't  often  remember  all  this,"  says  she,  after  a 
little,  "  but  las'  spring  it  flushed  over  me ;  an'  w'en  I 
heerd  heow  Emerline  'd  be'n  sick,  —  I  hear  a  gre't 


150  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

many  things  ye  do'no'  nothin'  abeout,  children,  —  I 
thought  I  'd  tell  her,  fust  time  I  see  her." 

"  What  made  you  think  of  it  last  spring  ?  "  asked  Ste 
phen. 

u  The  laylocks  wuz  in  bloom,"  said  Miss  Mirny,  —  "  the 
laylocks  wuz  in  bloom." 

Just  then  mother  came  down  with  the  apples,  and  some 
dip-candles,  and  a  basket  of  broken  victuals ;  and  Miss 
Mirny  tied  her  cloak  and  said  she  believed  she  must  be 
going.  And  Stephen  went  and  got  his  hat  and  coat,  and 
said,  — 

"Miss  Mirny,  wouldn't  you  like  a  little  company  to 
help  you  carry  your  bundles  ?  Come,  Emmie,  get  your 
shawl." 

So  I  ran  and  put  on  my  things,  and  Stephen  and  I 
went  home  with  Aunt  Mirny. 

"  Emmie,"  says  Stephen,  as  we  were  coming  back,  and 
he  'd  got  hold  of  my  hand  in  his,  where  I  'd  taken  his 
arm., "  what  do  you  think  of  Aunt  Mirny  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "  I  'm  sorry  I  've  ever  been  sharp  with 
her." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Stephen.  "  'T  a'n't  in  human  na 
ture  not  to  pity  her ;  but  then  she  brought  her  own  trouble 
on  herself,  you  see." 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  blast  rocks,"  says  Stephen,  when 
we  'd  walked  a  little  while  without  saying  anything,  — 
"  but  I  suppose  there  is  something  as  desperate  that  I 
can  do." 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  go  to  threatening  me  !  "  thinks  I ; 
and,  true  enough,  he  had  n't  any  need  to. 

"  Emmie,"  says  he,  "  if  you  say  '  No,'  when  I  ask  you 
to  have  me,  I  sha'n't  ask  you  again." 


KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS.  151 

"  Well  ?  "  says  I,  after  a  step  or  two,  seeing  he  did  n't 
speak. 

"Well?"  says  he. 

"  I  can't  say  '  Yes '  or  '  No '  either,  till  you  ask  me," 
said  I. 

He  stopped  under  the  starlight  and  looked  in  my  eyes. 

"  Emmie,"  says  he,  "did  you  ever  doubt  that  I  loved 
you  ?  " 

"  Once  I  thought  you  did,"  said  I ;  "  but  it 's  different 
now." 

"  I  do  love  you,"  said  he,  "  and  you  know  it." 

"  Me,  Stephen  ?  "  said  I,  —  "  with  my  face  like  a  spec 
kled  sparrow's-egg  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you,"  said  he  ;  and  he  bent  down  and  kissed  me, 
and  then  we  walked  on. 

By  and  by  Stephen  said,  When  would  I  come  and  be 
the  life  of  his  house  and  the  light  of  his  eyes  ?  That  was 
rather  a  speech  for  Stephen ;  and  I  said,  I  would  go  when 
ever  he  wanted  me.  And  then  we  went  home  very  com 
fortably,  and  Stephen  told  mother  it  was  all  right,  and 
mother  and  Lurindy  did  what  they  'd  got  very  much  in 
the  habit  of  doing,  —  cried  ;  and  I  said  I  should  think  I 
was  going  to  be  buried,  instead  of.  married ;  and  Stephen 
took  my  knitting-work  away,  and  said,  as  I  had  knit  all 
our  trouble  and  all  our  joy  into  that  thing,  he  meant  to 
keep  it  just  as  it  was ;  and  that  was  the  end  of  my  knit 
ting  sale-socks. 

I  suppose,  now  I  've  told  you  so  far,  you  'd  maybe  like 
to  know  the  rest.  Well,  Lurindy  and  John  were  married 
Thanksgiving  morning ;  and  just  as  they  moved  aside, 
Stephen  and  I  stepped  up  and  took  John  and  Aunt 
Mirny  rather-  by  surprise  by  being  married  too. 

"  Wai,"  says  Aunt  Mirny,  "  ef  ever  you  hang  eout  an- 


152  KNITTING  SALE-SOCKS. 

other  red  flag,  't  won't  be  because  Lurindy's  nussin'  Ste 
phen!" 

I  don't  suppose  there  'a  a  happier  little  woman  in  the 
State  than  me.  I  should  like  to  see  her,  if  there  is.  I 
go  over  home  pretty  often,  and  Aunt  Mirny  makes  just 
as  much  of  my  baby  —  I  've  named  him  John  —  as 
mother  does ;  and  that 's  enough  to  ruin  any  child  that 
was  n't  a  cherub  born.  And  Miss  Mirny  always  has  a 
bottle  of  some  new  nostrum  of  her  own  stilling  every  time 
she  sees  any  of  us ;  we  've  got  enough  to  swim  a  ship,  on 
the  top-shelf  of  the  pantry  to-day,  if  it  was  all  put  together. 
As  for  Stephen,  there  he  comes  now  through  the  huckle 
berry-pasture,  with  the  baby  on  his  arm;  he  seems  to 
think  there  never  was  a  baby  before ;  and  sometimes  — 
Stephen  's  such  a  home-body  —  I'm  tempted  to  think 
that  maybe  I  have  married  my  own  shadow,  after  all. 
However,  I  would  n't  have  it  other  than  it  is.  Lurindy, 
she  lives  at  home  the  most  of  the  time ;  and  once  in  a 
while,  when  Stephen  and  mother  and  I  and  she  are  all 
together,  and  as  gay  as  larks,  and  the  baby  is  creeping 
round,  swallowing  pins  and  hooks  and  eyes  as  if  they 
were  blueberries,  and  the  fire  is  burning,  and  the  kettle 
singing,  and  the  hearth  swept  clean,  it  seems  as  if  heaven 
had  actually  come  down,  or  we  'd  all  gone  up  without 
waiting  for  our  robes  ;  it  seems  as  if  it  was  altogether  too 
much  happiness  for  one  family.  And  I  've  made  Stephen 
take  a  paper  on  purpose  to  watch  the  ship-news  ;  for  John 
sails  captain  of  a  fruiter  to  the  Mediterranean,  and,  sure 
enough,  its  little  gilt  figure-head  that  goes  dipping  in  the 
foam  is  nothing  else  than  the  Sister  of  Charity. 


CIRCUMSTANCE 


>'ii$r^ 


CIRCUMSTANCE. 


HE  had  remained,  during  all  that  day,  with  a 
sick  neighbor,  —  those  eastern  wilds  of  Maine 
in  that  epoch  frequently  making  neighbors  and 
miles  synonymous,  —  and  so  busy  had  she 
been  with  care  and  sympathy  that  she  did  not  at  first 
observe  the  approaching  night.  But  finally  the  level 
rays,  reddening  the  snow,  threw  their  gleam  upon  the 
wall,  and,  hastily  donning  cloak  and  hood,  she  bade  her 
friends  farewell  and  sallied  forth  on  her  return.  Home 
lay  some  three  miles  distant,  across  a  copse,  a  meadow, 
and  a  piece  of  woods,  —  the  woods  being  a  fringe  on  the 
skirts  of  the  great  forests  that  stretch  far  away  into  the 
North.  That  home  was  one  of  a  dozen  log-houses  lying 
a  few  furlongs  apart  from  each  other,  with  their  half- 
cleared  demesnes  separating  them  at  the  rear  from  a 
wilderness  untrodden  save  by  stealthy  native  or  deadly 
panther  tribes. 

She-was  in  a  nowise  exalted  frame  of  spirit,  —  on  the 
contrary,  rather  depressed  by  the  pain  she  had  witnessed 
and  the  fatigue  she  had  endured  ;  but  in  certain  tempera 
ments  such  a  condition  throws  open  the  mental  pores,  so 
to  speak,  and  renders  one  receptive  of  every  influence. 
Through  the  little  copse  she  walked  slowly,  with  her 


156  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

cloak  folded  about  her,  lingering  to  imbibe  the  sense  of 
shelter,  the  sunset  filtered  in  purple  through  the  mist  of 
woven  spray  and  twig,  the  companionship  of  growth  not 
sufficiently  dense  to  band  against  her,  the  sweet  home- 
feeling  of  a  young  and  tender  wintry  wood.  It  was 
therefore  just  on.  the  edge  of  the  evening  that  she 
emerged  from  the  place  and  began  to  cross  the  meadow- 
land.  At  one  hand  lay  the  forest  to  which  her  path 
wound ;  at  the  other  the  evening  star  hung  over  a  tide  of 
failing  orange  that  slowly  slipped  down  the  earth's  broad 
side  to  sadden  other  hemispheres  with  sweet  regret. 
Walking  rapidly  now,  and  with  her  eyes  wide-open,  she 
distinctly  saw  in  the  air  before  her  what  was  not  there  a 
moment  ago,  a  winding-sheet,  —  cold,  white,  and  ghastly, 
waved  by  the  likeness  of  four  wan  hands,  —  that  rose 
with  a  long  inflation,  and  fell  in  rigid  folds,  while  a  voice, 
shaping  itself  from  the  hollowness  above,  spectral  and 
melancholy,  sighed,  — "  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  the 
people !  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  the  people  !  "  Three 
times  the  sheet  with  its  corpse-covering  outline  waved 
beneath  the  pale  hands,  and  the  voice,  awful  in  its  solemn 
and  mysterious  depth,  sighed,  "  The  Lord  have  mercy  on 
the  people ! "  Then  all  was  gone,  the  place  was  clear 
again,  the  gray  sky  was  obstructed  by  no  deathly  blot ; 
she  looked  about  her,  shook  her  shoulders  decidedly,  and, 
pulling  on  her  hood,  went  forward  once  more. 

She  might  have  been  a  little  frightened  by  such  an  ap 
parition,  if  she  had  led  a  life  of  less  reality  than  frontier 
settlers  are  apt  to  lead ;  but  dealing  with  hard  fact  does 
not  engender  a  flimsy  habit  of  mind,  and  this  woman  was 
too  sincere  and  earnest  in  her  character,  and  too  happy  in 
her  situation,  to  be  thrown  by  antagonism,  merely,  upon 
superstitious  fancies  and  chimeras  of  the  second- sight. 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  157 

She  did  not  even  believe  herself  subject  to  an  hallucina 
tion,  but  smiled  simply,  a  little  vexed  that  her  thought 
could  have  framed  such  a  glamour  from  the  day's  occur 
rences,  and  not  sorry  to  lift  the  bough  of  the  warder  of 
the  woods  and  enter  and  disappear  in  their  sombre  path. 
If  she  had  been  imaginative,  she  would  have  hesitated  at 
her  first  step  into  a  region  whose  dangers  were  not  vis 
ionary  ;  but  I  suppose  that  the  thought  of  a  little  child  at 
home  would  conquer  that  propensity  in  the-  most  habit 
uated.  So,  biting  a  bit  of  spicy  birch,  she  went  along. 
Now  and  then  she  came  to  a  gap  where  the  trees  had 
been  partially  felled,  and  here  she  found  that  the  linger 
ing  twilight  was  explained  by  that  peculiar  and  perhaps 
electric  film  which  sometimes  sheathes  the  sky  in  diffused 
light  for  many  hours  before  a  brilliant  aurora.  Suddenly, 
a  swift  shadow,  like  the  fabulous  flying-dragon,  writhed 
through  the  air  before  her,  and  she  felt  herself  instantly 
seized  and  borne  aloft.  It  was  that  wild  beast  —  the 
most  savage  and  serpentine  and  subtle  and  fearless  of  our 
latitudes  —  known  by  hunters  as  the  Indian  Devil,  and 
he  held  her  in  his  clutches  on  the  broad  floor  of  a  swing 
ing  fir-bough.  His  long  sharp  claws  were  caught  in  her 
clothing,  he  worried  them  sagaciously  a  little,  then,  find 
ing  that  ineffectual  to  free  them,  he  commenced  licking 
her  bare  arm  with  his  rasping  tongue  and  pouring  over 
her  the  wide  streams  of  his  hot,  foetid  breath.  So  quick 
had  this  flashing  action  been  that  the  woman  had  had  no 
time  for  alarm ;  moreover,  she  was  not  of  the  screaming 
kind :  but  now,  as  she  felt  him  endeavoring  to  disentangle 
his  claws,  and  the  horrid  sense  of  her  fate  smote  her,  and 
she  saw  instinctively  the  fierce  plunge  of  those  weapons, 
the  long  strips  of  living  flesh  torn  from  her  bones,  the 
agony,  the  quivering  disgust,  itself  a  worse  agony,  — 


158  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

while  by  her  side,  and  holding  her  in  his  great  lithe  em 
brace,  the  monster  crouched,  his  white  tusks  whetting  and 
gnashing,  his  eyes  glaring  through  all  the  darkness  like 
balls  of  red  fire,  —  a  shriek,  that  rang  in  every  forest  hol 
low,  that  startled  every  winter-housed  thing,  that  stirred 
and  woke  the  least  needle  of  the  tasselled  pines,  tore 
through  her  lips.  A  moment  afterward,  the  beast  left  the 
arm,  once  white,  now  crimson,  and  looked  up  alertly. 

She  did  not  think  at  this  instant  to  call  upon  God. 
She  called  upon  her  husband.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  but  one  friend  in  the  world  ;  that  was  he  ;  and  again 
the  cry,  loud,  clear,  prolonged,  echoed  through  the  woods. 
It  was  not  the  shriek  that  disturbed  the  creature  at  his 
relish ;  he  was  not  born  in  the  woods  to  be  scared  of  an 
owl,  you  know ;  what  then  ?  It  must  have  been  the 
echq,  most  musical,  most  resonant,  repeated  and  yet  re 
peated,  dying  with  long  sighs  of  sweet  sound,  vibrated 
from  rock  to  river  and  back  again  from  depth  to  depth  of 
cave  and  cliff.  Her  thought  flew  after  it ;  she  knew,  that, 
even  if  her  husband  heard  it,  he  yet  could  not  reach  her 
in  time ;  she  saw  that  while  the  beast  listened  he  would 
not  gnaw,  —  and  this  she  felt  directly,  when  the  rough, 
sharp,  and  multiplied  stings  of  his  tongue  retouched  her 
arm.  Again  her  lips  opened  by  instinct,  but  the  sound 
that  issued  thence  came  by  reason.  She  had  heard  that 
music  charmed  wild  beasts,  — just  this  point  between  life 
and  death  intensified  every  faculty,  —  and  when  she 
opened  her  lips  the  third  time,  it  was  not  for  shrieking, 
but  for  singing. 

A  little  thread  of  melody  stole  out,  a  rill  of  tremulous 
motion ;  it  was  the  cradle-song  with  which  she  rocked  her 
baby ;  —  how  could  she  sing  that  ?  And  then  she  remem 
bered  the  baby  sleeping  rosily  on  the  long  settee  before 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  159 

the  fire,  —  the  father  cleaning  his  gun,  with  one  foot  on 
the  green  wooden  rundle,  —  the  merry  light  from  the 
chimney  dancing  out  and  through  the  room,  on  the  rafters 
of  the  ceiling  with  their  tassels  of  onions  and  herbs,  on  the 
log  walls  painted  with  lichens  and  festooned  with  apples, 
on  the  king's-arm  slung  across  the  shelf  with  the  old 
pirate's-cutlass,  on  the  snow-pile  of  the  bed,  and  on  the 
great  brass  clock,  —  dancing,  too,  and  lingering  on  the 
baby,  with  his  fringed-gentian  eyes,  his  chubby  fists 
clenched  on  the  pillow,  and  his  fine  breezy  hair  fanning 
with  the  motion  of  his  father's  foot.  All  this  struck  her 
in  one,  and  made  a  sob  of  her  breath,  and  she  ceased. 

Immediately  the  long  red  tongue  thrust  forth  again. 
Before  it  touched,  a  song  sprang  to  her  lips,  a  wild  sea- 
song,  such  as  some  sailor  might  be  singing  far  out  on 
trackless  blue  water  that  night,  the  shrouds  whistling 
with  frost  and  the  sheets  glued  in  ice,  —  a  song  with  the 
wind  in  its  burden  and  the  spray  in  its  chorus.  The 
monster  raised  his  head  and  flared  the  fiery  eyeballs  upon 
her,  then  fretted  the  imprisoned  claws  a  moment  and  was 
quiet ;  only  the  breath  like  the  vapor  from  some  hell-pit 
still  swathed  her.  Her  voice,  at  first  faint  and  fearful, 
gradually  lost  its  quaver,  grew  under  her  control  and  sub 
ject  to  her  modulation  ;  it  rose  on  long  swells,  it  fell  in 
subtile  cadences,  now  and  then  its  tones  pealed  out  like 
bells  from  distant  belfries  on  fresh  sonorous  mornings. 
She  sung  the  song  through,  and,  wondering  lest  his  name 
of  Indian  Devil  were  not  his  true  name,  and  if  he  would 
not  detect  her,  she  repeated  it.  Once  or  twice  now,  in 
deed,  the  beast  stirred  uneasily,  turned,  and  made  the 
bough  sway  at  his  movement.  As  she  ended,  he  snapped 
his  jaws  together,  and  tore  away  the  fettered  member, 
curling  it  under  him  with  a  snarl,  —  when  she  burst  into 


160  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

the  gayest  reel  that  ever  answered  a  fiddle-bow.  How 
many  a  time  she  had  heard  her  husband  play  it  on  the 
homely  fiddle  made  by  himself  from  birch  and  cherry- 
wood  !  how  many  a  time  she  had  seen  it  danced  on  the 
floor  of  their  one  room,  to  the  patter  of  wooden  clogs  and 
the  rustle  of  homespun  petticoat !  how  many  a  time  she 
had  danced  it  herself !  —  and  did  she  not  remember  once, 
as  they  joined  clasps  for  eight-hands-round,  how  it  had 
lent  its  gay,  bright  measure  to  her  life  ?  And  here  she 
was  singing  it  alone,  in  the  forest,  at  midnight,  to  a 
wild  beast !  As  she  sent  her  voice  trilling  up  and  down 
its  quick  oscillations  between  joy  and  pain,  the  creature 
who  grasped  her  uncurled  his  paw  and  scratched  the  bark 
from  the  bough  ;  she  must  vary  the  spell ;  and  her  voice 
spun  leaping  along  the  projecting  points  of  tune  of  a  horn 
pipe.  Still  singing,  she  felt  herself  twisted  about  with  a 
low  growl  and  a  lifting  of  the  red  lip  from  the  glittering 
teeth;  she  broke  the  hornpipe's  thread,  and  commenced 
unravelling  a  lighter,  livelier  thing,  an  Irish  jig.  Up  and 
down  and  round  about  her  voice  flew,  the  beast  threw 
back  his  head  so  that  the  diabolical  face  fronted  hers,  and 
the  torrent  of  his  breath  prepared  her  for  his  feast  as  the 
anaconda  slimes  his  prey.  Franticly  she  darted  from 
tune  to  tune  ;  his  restless  movements  followed  her.  She 
tired  herself  with  dancing  and  vivid  national  airs,  growing 
feverish  and  singing  spasmodically  as  she  felt  her  horrid 
tomb  yawning  wider.  Touching  in  this  manner  all  the 
slogan  and  keen  clan  cries,  the  beast  moved  again,  but 
only  to  lay  the  disengaged  paw  across  her  with  heavy 
satisfaction.  She  did  not  dare  to  pause  ;  through  the 
clear  cold  air,  the  frosty  starlight,  she  sang.  If  there 
were  yet  any  tremor  in  the  tone,  it  was  not  fear,  —  she 
had  learned  the  secret  of  sound  at  last ;  nor  could  it  be 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  161 

chill,  —  far  too  high  a  fever  throbbed  her  pulses  ;  it  was 
nothing  but  the  thought  of  the  log-house  and  of  what 
might  be  passing  within  it.  She  fancied  the  baby  stirring 
in  his  sleep  and  moving  his  pretty  lips,  —  her  husband 
rising  and  opening  the  door,  looking  out  after  her,  .and 
wondering  at  her  absence.  She  fancied  the  light  pouring 
through  the  chink  and  then  shut  in  again  with  all  the 
safety  and  comfort  and  joy,  her  husband  taking  down  the 
fiddle  and  playing  lightly  with  his  head  inclined,  playing 
while  she  sang,  while  she  sang  for  her  life  to  an  Indian 
Devil.  Then  she  knew  he  was  fumbling  for  and  finding 
some  shining  fragment  and  scoring  it  down  the  yellowing 
hair,  and  unconsciously  her  voice  forsook  the  wild  war- 
tunes  and  drifted  into  the  half-gay,  half-melancholy  Rosin 
the  Bow. 

Suddenly  she  woke  pierced  with  a  pang,  and  the  dag 
gered  tooth  penetrating  her  flesh ;  —  dreaming  of  safety, 
she  had  ceased  singing  and  lost  it.  The  beast  had  re 
gained  the  use  of  all  his  limbs,  and  now,  standing  and 
raising  his  back,  bristling  and  foaming,  with  sounds  that 
would  have  been  like  hisses  but  for  their  deep  and  fear 
ful  sonority,  he  withdrew  step  by  step  toward  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  still  with  his  flaming  balls  upon  her.  She 
was  all  at  once  free,  on  one  end  of  the  bough,  twenty  feet 
from  the  ground.  She  did  not  measure  the  distance,  but 
rose  to  drop  herself  down,  careless  of  any  death,  so  that  it 
were  not  this.  Instantly,  as  if  he  scanned  her  thoughts, 
the  creature  bounded  forward  with  a  yell  and  caught  her 
again  in  his  dreadful  hold.  It  might  be  that  he  was  not 
greatly  famished ;  for,  as  she  suddenly  flung  up  her  voice 
again,  he  settled  himself  composedly  on  the  bough,  still 
clasping  her  with  invincible  pressure  to  his  rough,  raven 
ous  breast,  and  listening  in  a  fascination  to  the  sad, 

x 


162  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

strange  U-la-lu  that  now  moaned  forth  in  loud,  hollow 
tones  above  him.  He  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  sleepily 
reopened  and  shut  them  again. 

What  rending  pains  were  close  at  hand  !  Death !  and 
what  a  death !  worse  than  any  other  that  is  to  be  named  ! 
Water,  be  it  cold  or  warm,  that  which  buoys  up  blue  ice 
fields,  or  which  bathes  tropical  coasts  with  currents  of 
balmy  bliss,  is  yet  a  gentle  conqueror,  kisses  as  it  kills, 
and  draws  you  down  gently  through  darkening  fathoms'  to 
its  heart.  Death  at  the  sword  is  the  festival  of  trumpet 
and  bugle  and  banner,  with  glory  ringing  out  around  you 
and  distant  hearts  thrilling  through  yours.  No  gnawing 
disease  can  bring  such  hideous  end  as  this ;  for  that  is  a 
fiend  bred  of  your  own  flesh,  and  this  —  is  it  a  fiend,  this 
living  lump  of  appetites  ?  What  dread  comes  with  the 
thought  of  perishing  in  flames !  but  fire,  let  it  leap  and 
hiss  never  so  hotly,  is  something  too  remote,  too  alien,  to 
inspire  us  with  such  loathly  horror  as  a  wild  beast ;  if  it 
have  a  life,  that  life  is  too  utterly  beyond  our  comprehen 
sion.  Fire  is  not  half  ourselves ;  as  it  devours,  arouses 
neither  hatred  nor  disgust;  is  not  to  be  known  by  the 
strength  of  our  lower  natures  let  loose ;  does  not  drip 
our  blood  into  our  faces  from  foaming  chaps,  nor  mouth 
nor  slaver  above  us  with  vitality.  Let  us  be  ended  by 
fire,  and  we  are  ashes,  for  the  winds  to  bear,  the  leaves  to 
cover;  let  us  be  ended  by  wild  beasts,  and  the  base,  cursed 
thing  howls  with  us  forever  through  the  forest.  All  this 
she  felt  as  she  charmed  him,  and  what  force  it  lent  to  her 
song  God  knows.  If  her  voice  should  fail !  If  the  damp 
and  cold  should  give  her  any  fatal  hoarseness  !  If  all  the 
silent  powers  of  the  forest  did  not  conspire  to  help  her ! 
The  dark,  hollow  night  rose  indifferently  over  her ;  the 
wide,  cold  air  breathed  rudely  past  her,  lifted  her  wet  hair 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  163 

and  blew  it  down  again ;  the  great  boughs  swung  with  a 
ponderous  strength,  now  and  then  clashed  their  iron  lengths 
together  and  shook  off  a  sparkle  of  icy  spears  or  some  long- 
lain  weight  of  snow  from  their  heavy  shadows.  The  green 
depths  were  utterly  cold  and  silent  and  stern.  These  beau 
tiful  haunts  that  all  the  summer  were  hers  and  rejoiced  to 
share  with  her  their  bounty,  these  heavens  that  had  yielded 
their  largess,  these  stems  that  had  thrust  their  blossoms  in 
to  her  hands,  all  these  friends  of  three  moons  ago  forgot  her 
now  and  knew  her  no  longer. 

Feeling  her  desolation,  wild,  melancholy,  forsaken  songs 
rose  thereon  from  that  frightful  aerie,  —  weeping,  wailing 
tunes,  that  sob  among  the  people  from  age  to  age,  and 
overflow  with  otherwise  unexpressed  sadness,  —  all  rude, 
mournful  ballads,  —  old  tearful  strains,  that  Shakespeare 
heard  the  vagrants  sing,  and  that  rise  and  fall  like  the 
wind  and  tide,  —  sailor-songs,  to  be  heard  only  in  lone 
mid- watches  beneath  the  moon  and  stars, — ghastly  rhym 
ing  romances,  such  as  that  famous  one  of  the  Lady  Mar 
garet,  when 

"  She  slipped  on  her  gown  of  green 

A  piece  below  the  knee,  — 
And  'twas  all  a  long  cold  winter's  night 
A  dead  corse  followed  she." 

Still  the  beast  lay  with  closed  eyes,  yet  never  relaxing 
his  grasp.  Once  a  half-whine  of  enjoyment  escaped 
him, — he  fawned  his  fearful  head  upon  her;  once  he 
scored  her  cheek  with  his  tongue  :  savage  caresses  that 
hurt  like  wounds.  How  weary  she  was!  and  yet  how 
terribly  awake !  How  fuller  and  fuller  of  dismay  grew 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  only  prolonging  her  anguish 
and  playing  with  death !  How  appalling  the  thought  that 
with  her  voice  ceased  her  existence !  Yet  she  could  not 


164  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

sing  forever ;  her  throat  was  dry  and  hard ;  her  very 
breath  was  a  pain ;  her  mouth  was  hotter  than  any  des 
ert-worn  pilgrim's ;  —  if  she  could  but  drop  upon  her 
burning  tongue  one  atom  of  the  ice  that  glittered  about 
her  !  —  but  both  of  her  arms  were  pinioned  in  the  giant's 
vice.  She  remembered  the  winding-sheet,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  shivered  with  spiritual  fear.  Was  it 
hers  ?  She  asked  herself,  as  she  sang,  what  sins  she  had 
committed,  what  life  she  had  led,  to  find  her  punishment 
so  soon  and  in  these  pangs,  —  and  then  she  sought  eager 
ly  for  some  reason  why  her  husband  was  not  up  and 
abroad  to  find  her.  He  failed  her,  —  her  one  sole  hope 
in  life  ;  and  without  being  aware  of  it,  her  voice  forsook 
the  songs  of  suffering  and  sorrow  for  old  Covenanting 
hymns,  —  hymns  with  which  her  mother  had  lulled  her, 
which  the  class-leader  pitched  in  the  chimney-corners,  — 
grand  and  sweet  Methodist  hymns,  brimming  with  melo 
dy  and  with  all  fantastic  involutions  of  tune  to  suit  that 
ecstatic  worship,  —  hymns  full  of  the  beauty  of  holiness, 
steadfast,  relying,  sanctified  by  the  salvation  they  had  lent 
to  those  in  worse  extremity  than  hers,  —  for  they  had 
found  themselves  in  the  grasp  of  hell,  while  she  was  but 
in  the  jaws  of  death.  Out  of  this  strange  music,  peculiar 
to  one  character  of  faith,  and  than  which  there  is  none 
more  beautiful  in  its  degree  nor  owning  a  more  potent 
sway  of  sound,  her  voice  soared  into  the  glorified  chants 
of  churches.  What  to  her  was  death  by  cold  or  famine 
or  wild  beasts  ?  "  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
in  him,"  she  sang.  High  and  clear  through  the  frore 
fair  night,  the  level  moonbeams  splintering  in  the  wood, 
the  scarce  glints  of  stars  in  the  shadowy  roof  of  branches, 
these  sacred  anthems  rose,  —  rose  as  a  hope  from  despair, 
as  some  snowy  spray  of  flower-bells  from  blackest  mould. 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  165 

Was  she  not  in  God's  hands  ?  Did  not  the  world  swing 
at  his  will  ?  If  this  were  in  his  great  plan  of  provi 
dence,  was  it  not  best,  and  should  she  not  accept  it  ? 

"  He  is  the  Lord  our  God ;  his  judgments  are  in  all 
the  earth." 

Oh,  sublime  faith  of  our  fathers,  where  utter  self-sacri 
fice  alone  was  true  love,  the  fragrance  of  whose  unre- 
quired  subjection  was  pleasanter  than  that  of  golden 
censers  swung  in  purple-vapored  chancels! 

Never  ceasing  in  the  rhythm  of  her  thoughts,  articu 
lated  in  niusic  as  they  thronged,  the  memory  of  her  first 
communion  flashed  over  her.  Again  she  was  in  that 
distant  place  on  that  sweet  spring  morning.  Again  the 
congregation  rustled  out,  and  the  few  remained,  and  she 
trembled  to  find  herself  among  them.  How  well  she  re 
membered  the  devout,  quiet  faces,  too  accustomed  to  the 
sacred  feast  to  glow  with  their  inner  joy !  how  well  the 
snowy  linen  at  the  altar,  the  silver  vessels  slowly  and  si 
lently  shifting!  and  as  the  cup  approached  and  passed, 
how  the  sense  of  delicious  perfume  stole  in  and  height 
ened  the  transport  of  her  prayer,  and  she  had  seemed, 
looking  up  through  the  windows  where  the  sky  soared 
blue  in  constant  freshness,  to  feel  all  heaven's  balms  drip 
ping  from  the  portals,  and  to  scent  the  lilies  of  eternal 
peace !  Perhaps  another  would  not  have  felt  so  much 
ecstasy  as  satisfaction  on  that  occasion  ;  but  it  is  a  true, 
if  a  later  disciple,  who  has  said,  "  The  Lord  bestoweth  his 
blessings-  there,  where  he  findeth  the  vessels  empty." 

"  And  does  it  need  the  walls  of  a  church  to  renew  my 
communion  ? "  she  asked.  "  Does  not  every  moment 
stand  a  temple  four-square  to  God?  And  in  that  morn 
ing,  with  its  buoyant  sunlight,  was  I  any  dearer  to  the 
Heart  of  the  World  than  now?  —  'My  beloved  is  mine, 


166  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

and  I  am  his,' "  she  sang  over  and  over  again,  with  all 
varied  inflection  and  profuse  tune.  How  gently  all  the 
winter-wrapt  things  bent  toward  her  then  !  into  what  re 
lation  with  her  had  they  grown  !  how  this  common  de 
pendence  was  the  spell  of  their  intimacy  !  how  at  one 
with  Nature  had  she  become  !  how  all  the  night  and  the 
silence  and  the  forest  seemed  to  hold  its  breath,  and  to 
send  its  soul  up  to  God  in  her  singing !  It  was  no  longer 
despondency,  that  singing.  It  was  neither  prayer  nor  pe 
tition.  She  had  left  imploring,  "  How  long  wilt  thou  for 
get  me,  0  Lord  ?  Lighten  mine  eyes,  lest  I  sleep  the 
sleep  of  death  !  For  in  death  there  is  no  remembrance 
of  thee,"  —  with  countless  other  such  fragments  of  sup 
plication.  She  cried  rather,  "  Yea,  though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil :  for 
thou  art  with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff,  they  comfort 
me,"  —  and  lingered,  and  repeated,  and  sang  again,  "  I 
shall  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake,  with  thy  likeness." 

Then  she  thought  of  the  Great  Deliverance,  when  he 
drew  her  up  out  of  many  waters,  and  the  flashing  old 
psalm  pealed  forth  triumphantly  :  —  . 

"  The  Lord  descended  from  above, 

and  bow'd  the  heavens  hie: 
And  underneath  his  feet  he  cast 

the  darknesse  of  the  skie. 
On  cherubs  and  on  cherubins 

full  royally  he  road : 
And  on  the  wings  of  all  the  winds 

came  flying  all  abroad." 

She  forgot  how  recently,  and  with  what  a  strange  pity 
for  her  own  shapeless  form  that  was"  to  be,  she  had 
quaintly  sung, — 

"  0  lovely  appearance  of  death ! 

What  sight  upon  earth  is  so  fair? 

Not  all  the  gay  pageants  that  breathe 

Can  with  a  dead  body  compare !  " 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  167 

She  remembered  instead,  —  "  In  thy  presence  is  fulness 
of  joy ;  at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  forever- 
more.  God  will  redeem  my  soul  from  the  power  of 
the  grave :  for  he  shall  receive  me.  He  will  swallow 
up  death  in  victory."  Not  once  now  did  she  say,  "  Lord, 
how  long  wilt  thou  look  on ;  rescue  my  soul  from  their 
destructions,  my  darling  from  the  lions,"  —  for  she  knew 
that  the  young  lions  roar  after  their  prey  and  seek  their 
meat  from  God.  "  O  Lord,  thou  preservest  man  and 
beast!"  she  said. 

She  had  no  comfort  or  consolation  in  this  season,  such 
as  sustained  the  Christian  martyrs  in  the  amphitheatre. 
She  was  not  dying  for  her  faith  ;  there  were  no  palms  in 
heaven  for  her  to  wave ;  but  how  many  a  time  had  she 
declared,  —  "I  had  rather  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  house 
of  my  God,  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness ! " 
And  as  the  broad  rays  here  and  there  broke  through  the 
dense  covert  of  shade  and  lay  in  rivers  of  lustre  on  crystal 
sheathing  and  frozen  fretting  of  trunk  and  limb  and  on 
the  great  spaces  of  refraction,  they  builded  up  visibly  that 
house,  the  shining  city  on  the  hill,  and  singing,  "  Beautiful 
for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  Mount  Zion, 
on  the  sides  of  the  North,  the  city  of  the  Great  King," 
her  vision  climbed  to  that  higher  picture  where  the  angel 
shows  the  dazzling  thing,  the  holy  Jerusalem  descending 
out  of  heaven  from  God,  with  its  splendid  battlements  and 
gates  of  pearls,  and  its  foundations,  the  eleventh  a  jacinth, 
the  twelfth  an  amethyst,  —  with  its  great  white  throne, 
and  the  rainbow  round  about  it,  in  sight  like  unto  an  em 
erald  :  "And  there  shall  be  no  night  there,  —  for  the 
Lord  God  giveth  them  light,"  she  sang. 

What  whisper  of  dawn  now  rustled  through  the  wilder 
ness  ?    How  the  night  was  passing !    And  still  the  beast 


168  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

crouched  upon  the  bough,  changing  only  the  posture  of 
his  head,  that  again  he  might  command  her  with  those 
charmed  eyes ;  —  half  their  fire  was  gone  ;  she  could  al 
most  have  released  herself  from  his  custody  ;  yet,  had  she 
stirred,  no  one  knows  what  malevolent  instinct  might  have 
dominated  anew.  But  of  that  she  did  not  dream ;  long 
ago  stripped  of  any  expectation,  she  was  experiencing  in 
her  divine  rapture  how  mystically  true  it  is  that  "  he  that 
dwelleth  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty." 

Slow  clarion  cries  now  wound  from  the  distance  as 
the  cocks  caught  the  intelligence  of  day  and  re-echoed 
it  faintly  from  farm  to  farm,  —  sleepy  sentinels  of  night, 
sounding  the  foe's  invasion,  and  translating  that  dim  intu 
ition  to  ringing  notes  of  warning.  Still  she  chanted  on. 
A  remote  crash  of  brushwood  told  of  some  other  beast  on 
his  depredations,  or  some  night-belated  traveller  groping 
his  way  through  the  narrow  path.  Still  she  chanted  on. 
The  far,  faint  echoes  of  the  chanticleers  died  into  distance, 
the  crashing  of  the  branches  grew  nearer.  No  wild  beast 
that,  but  a  man's  step,  —  a  man's  form  in  the  moonlight, 
stalwart  and  strong,  —  on  one  arm  slept  a  little  child,  in 
the  other  hand  he  held  his  gun.  Still  she  chanted  on. 

Perhaps,  when  her  husband  last  looked  forth,  he  was 
half  ashamed  to  find  what  a  fear  he  felt  for  her.  He 
knew  she  would  never  leave  the  child  so  long  but  for 
some  direst  need,  —  and  yet  he  may  have  laughed  at  him 
self,  as  he  lifted  and  wrapped  it  with  awkward  care,  and, 
loading  his  gun  and  strapping  on  his  horn,  opened  the 
door  again  and  closed  it  behind  him,  going  out  and  plung 
ing  into  the  darkness  and  dangers  of  the  forest.  He  was 
more  singularly  alarmed  than  he  would  have  been  willing 
to  acknowledge ;  as  he  had  sat  with  his  bow  hovering 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  169 

over  the  strings,  he  had  half  believed  to  hear  her  voice 
mingling  gayly  with  the  instrument,  till  he  paused  and 
listened  if  she  were  not  about  to  lift  the  latch  and  enter. 
As  he  drew  nearer  the  heart  of  the  forest,  that  intimation 
of  melody  seemed  to  grow  more  actual,  to  take  body  and 
breath,  to  come  and  go  on  long  swells  and  ebbs  of  the 
night-breeze,  to  increase  with  tune  and  words,  till  a 
strange  shrill  singing  grew  ever  clearer,  and,  as  he 
stepped  into  an  open  space  of  -moonbeams,  far  up  in  the 
branches,  rocked  by  the  wind,  and  singing,  "  How  beau 
tiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth 
good  tidings,  that  publisheth  peace,"  he  saw  his  wife,  — 
his  wife,  —  but,  great  God  in  heaven  !  how  ?  Some  mad 
exclamation  escaped  him,  but  without  diverting  her. 
The  child  knew  the  singing  voice,  though  never  heard 
before  in  that  unearthly  key,  and  turned  toward  it 
through  the  veiling  dreams.  With  a  celerity  almost  in 
stantaneous,  it  lay,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  on  the 
ground  at  the  father's  feet,  while  his  gun  was  raised  to 
his  shoulder  and  levelled  at  the  monster  covering  his  wife 
with  shaggy  form  and  flaming  gaze, —  his  wife  so  ghastly 
white,  so  rigid,  so  stained  with  blood,  her  eyes  so  fixedly 
bent  above,  and  her  lips,  that  had  indurated  into  the 
chiselled  pallor  of  marble,  parted  only  with  that  flood  of 
solemn  song. 

I  do  not  know  if  it  were  the  mother-instinct  that  for  a 
moment  lowered  her  eyes,  —  those  eyes,  so  lately  riveted 
on  heaven,  now  suddenly  seeing  all  life-long  bliss  possible. 
A  thrill  of  joy  pierced  and  shivered  through  her  like  a 
weapon,  her  voice  trembled  in  its  course,  her  glance  lost 
its  steady  strength,  fever-flushes  chased  each  other  over 
her  face,  yet  she  never  once  ceased  chanting.  She  was 
quite  aware,  that,  if  her  husband  shot  now,  the  ball  must 
8 


1 70  CIRCUMSTANCE. 

pierce  her  body  before  reaching  any  vital  part  of  the 
beast,  —  and  yet  better  that  death,  by  his  hand,  than  the 
other.  But  this  her  husband  also  knew,  and  he  remained 
motionless,  just  covering  the  creature  with  the  sight.  He 
dared  not  fire,  lest  some  wound  not  mortal  should  break 
the  spell  exercised  by  her  voice,  and  the  beast,  enraged 
with  pain,  should  rend  her  in  atoms  ;  moreover,  the  light 
was  too  uncertain  for  his  aim.  So  he  waited.  Now  and 
then  he  examined  his  gun  to  see  if  the  damp  were  in 
juring  its  charge,  now  and  then  he  wiped  the  great  drops 
from  his  forehead.  Again  the  cocks  crowed  with  the 
passing  hour,  —  the  last  time  they  were  heard  on  that 
night.  Cheerful  home  sound  then,  how  full  of  safety  and 
all  comfort  and  rest  it  seemed  !  what  sweet  morning  inci 
dents  of  sparkling  fire  and  sunshine,  of  gay  household 
bustle,  shining  dresser,  and  cooing  baby,  of  steaming 
cattle  in  the  yard,  and  brimming  milk-pails  at  the  door ! 
what  pleasant  voices  !  what  laughter  !  what  security  ! 
and  here  — 

Now,  as  she  sang  on  in  the  slow,  endless,  infinite  mo 
ments,  the  fervent  vision  of  God's  peace  was  gone.  Just 
as  the  grave  had  lost. its  sting,  she  was  snatched  back 
again  into  the  arms  of  earthly  hope.  In  vain  she  tried 
to  sing,  "  There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God," 
—  her  eyes  trembled  on  her  husband's,  and  she  could 
only  think  of  him,  and  of  the  child,  and  of  happiness  that 
yet  might  be,  but  with  what  a  dreadful  gulf  of  doubt  be 
tween  !  She  shuddered  now  in  the  suspense  ;  all  calm 
forsook  her;  she  was  tortured  with  dissolving  heats  or 
frozen  with  icy  blasts  ;  her  face  contracted,  growing  small 
and  pinched;  her  voice  was  hoarse  and  sharp,  —  every 
tone  cut  like  a  knife,  —  the  notes  became  heavy  to  lift,  — 
withheld  by  some  hostile  pressure,  —  impossible.  One 


CIRCUMSTANCE.  171 

gasp,  a  convulsive  effort,  and  there  was  silence,  —  she 
had  lost  her  voice. 

The  beast  made  a  sluggish  movement,  —  stretched  and 
fawned  like  one  awaking,  —  then,  as  if  he  would  have  yet 
more  of  the  enchantment,  stirred  her  slightly  with  his 
muzzle.  As  he  did  so,  a  sidelong  hint  of  the  man  standing 
below  with  the  raised  gun  smote  him ;  he  sprung  round 
furiously,  and,  seizing  his  prey,  was  about  to  leap  into 
some  unknown  airy  den  of  the  topmost  branches  now 
waving  to  the  slow  dawn.  The  late  moon  had  rounded 
through  the  sky  so  that  her  gleam  at  last  fell  full  upon 
the  bough  with  fairy  frosting ;  the  wintry  morning  light 
did  not  yet  penetrate  the  gloom.  The  woman,  suspended 
in  mid-air  an  instant,  cast  only  one  agonized  glance  be 
neath,  —  but  across  and  through  it,  ere  the  lids  could  fall, 
shot  a  withering  sheet  of  flame,  —  a  rifle-crack,  half- 
heard,  was  lost  in  the  terrible  yell  of  desperation  that 
bounded  after  it  and  filled  her  ears  with  savage  echoes, 
and  in  the  wide  arc  of  some  eternal  descent  she  was  fall 
ing  .  —  but  the  beast  fell  under  her. 

I  think  that  the  moment  following  must  have  been  too 
sacred  for  us,  and  perhaps  the  three  have  no  special  in 
terest  again  till  they  issue  from  the  shadows  of  the  wilder 
ness  upon  the  white  hills  that  skirt  their  home.  The 
father  carries  the  child  hushed  again  into  slumber,  the 
mother  follows  with  no  such  feeble  step  as  might  be  an 
ticipated.  It  is  not  time  for  reaction,  —  the  tension  not  yet 
relaxed,  the  nerves  still  vibrant,  she  seems  to  herself  like 
some  one  newly  made ;  the  night  was  a  dream ;  the  pres 
ent  stamped  upon  her  in  deep  satisfaction,  neither  weighed 
nor  compared  with  the  past ;  if  she  has  the  careful  tricks 
of  former  habit,  it  is  as  an  automaton ;  and  as  they  slowly 
climb  the  steep  under  the  clear  gray  vault  and  the  paling 


172  CIKCUMSTAXCE. 

morning  star,  and  as  she  stops  to  gather  a  spray  of  the 
red-rose  berries  or  a  feathery  tuft  of  dead  grasses  for  the 
chimney-piece  of  the  log-house,  or  a  handful  of  brown 
cones  for  the  child's  play,  —  of  these  quiet,  happy  folk 
you  would  scarcely  dream  how  lately  they  had  stolen 
from  under  the  banner  and  encampment  of  the  great 
King  Death.  The  husband  proceeds  a  step  or  two  in  ad 
vance  ;  the  wife  lingers  over  a  singular  foot-print  in  the 
snow,  stoops  and  examines  it,  then  looks  up  with  a  hur 
ried  word.  Her  husband  stands  alone  on  the  hill,  his 
arms  folded  across  the  babe,  his  gun  fallen,  —  stands  de 
fined  as  a  silhouette  against  the  pallid  sky.  What  is  there 
in  their  home,  lying  below  and  yellowing  in  the  light,  to 
fix  him  with  such  a  stare?  She  springs  to  his  side. 
There  is  no  home  there.  The  log-house,  the  barns,  the 
neighboring  farms,  the  fences,  are  all  blotted  out  and  min 
gled  in  one  smoking  ruin.  Desolation  and  death  were  in 
deed  there,  and  beneficence  and  life  in  the  forest.  Toma 
hawk  and  scalping-knife,  descending  during  that  night, 
had  left  behind  them  only  this  work  of  their  accomplished 
hatred  and  one  subtle  foot-print  in  the  snow. 

For  the  rest,  —  the  world  was  all  before  them,  where 
to  choose. 


DESERT    SANDS. 


DESERT    SANDS. 


is  one  of  my  bad  habits  to  paint  so  long  as 
the  mask  of  Proteus,  which  hangs  just  under 
my  ceiling,  smiles ;  with  the  darkness  the  an 
gles  fall  differently,  and  it  frowns.  But  al 
ways  when  the  day  fails,  when  the  gold  has  reddened  and 
deepened  and  vanished  in  purple,  when  the  air  is  inter 
fused  with  a  soft  voluptuous  sense  that  I  feel  as  I  might 
a  new  tint,  be  it  mauve  or  fuchsine,  when  this  coolness 
streams  over  my  burning  lids,  when  I  scent  the  sweet- 
brier's  ineffable  fragrance  wantoning  through  the  place, 
always  when  this  moment  comes  —  for  which  the  world 
was  made — I  throw  down  my  brushes,  and  without  paus 
ing  to  clean  my  palette,  go  out. 

I  speak  in  the  present  —  sad  wretch !  I,  who  live  only 
in  the  days  that  are  gone.  It  is  all  past,  all  past,  with  me 
now.  Alas  !  and  yet  again  alas  !  I  paint  no  more. 

Why  am  I  less  omnipotent  than  those  demigods?  When 
the  curse  fell  for  one  and  heaven  was  blank,  did  numbers 
cease  to  flow  ?  When  all  sound  was  hushed  on  the  ear  of 
the  other,  did  harmonies  any  the  less  build  up  their  great 
vaults  in  air  and  melodies  cease  to  blow  through  them  ? 
And  I  — 

It  should  be  that  hour  now ;  this  sweet-brier  that  pranks 


176  DESERT   SANDS. 

my  window  gives  all  its  breath  to  the  damp  night-wind ; 
it  is  that  which  steals  memory,  and  makes  the  lost  mine 
once  more.  Always,  at  this  hour,  when  I  went  out,  it  was 
to  see  her  that  I  went.  Eos,  I  called  her,  because  I  liked 
then  to  deck  her  in  all  fancies,  to  think  of  her  as  a  bright 
and  morning  star.  But  loveliness  like  hers  needed  no 
phrases  of  mine,  —  that  skin,  where  the  delicate  dyes 
mingled  as  on  the  apple-blossom ;  those  eyes,  bluer  than 
the  violet  planet !  All  that,  indeed,  was  much,  but  when 
it  withered,  her  power  would  be  the  same ;  she  was  like 
the  lilies  of  eternal  peace. 

I  did  not  know  I  loved  her,  if,  certainly,  I  ever  loved 
her,  —  too  selfish,  even,  to  know  myself.  But  there  are 
seasons  when  all  youth's  blood  riots  in  the  frame  and  blos 
soms  on  the  cheek,  when  the  heaven-given  instincts  stir  in 
the  veins,  —  and  the  spring  that  sends  the  sap  along  the 
bough,  sent  me  restlessness  and  longing  for  my  part. 

That  night  then,  as  many  a  night  before,  I  went  to  Eos. 
She  was  singing  in  some  upper  room,  but  came  down  at 
my  demand,  and  sang  to  me.  Then  her  sister  brought  in 
lights;  and  Charley  had  a  ship  to  rig.  How  gay  we 
were,  with  what  names  we  christened  her,  how  she  served 
as  a  skeleton  on  which  to  hang  all  sea  legends,  how  we  en 
riched  her  with  lore  of  the  Armada  and  the  flags  of  old 
heroic  battle-ships,  how  perfectly  we  equipped  her,  and 
how  we  ran  her  little  pennon  at  half-mast  when  her  skip 
per  was  sent  to  his  pillow  !  At  last  her  father  rose  and 
folded  up  his  paper. 

"  Eos,"  said  he,  "  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Eos,"  said  I,  "  good-night." 

She  came  out  with  me,  and  down  the  little  garden.  We 
waited  at  the  gate  a  moment,  perhaps  to  penetrate  our 
selves  with  the  sweet-brier's  perfume,  the  night,  and  the 


DESERT  SANDS.  177 

summer  stars.  I  had  told  her  that  I  was  going  away 
shortly. 

"  For  long?  "  she  had  asked. 

"  Forever,"  I  had  answered. 

Then  a  pause ;  in  it  I  listened  to  the  crickets  singing, 
the  leaves  rustling. 

"  I  shall  walk,"  I  added,  "  that  is  the  way  to  surprise 
Nature  in  her  hiding-places.  I  shall  camp  one  night  on 
hemlock  boughs,  and  the  next  on  a  ledge  above  the  clouds. 
I  shall  learn  the  cipher  that  hides  the  inner  spell  of  for 
ests  and  hills  and  sheets  of  falling  rivers ;  see  much,  and 
take  as  I  go.  It  will  be  a  life  almost  new,  as  cheery  as 
those  bas-reliefs  where,  at  every  breath,  you  expect  the 
pipes  to  blow,  the  flowers  to  fall." 

"  Yes,"  I  continued,  after  a  while,  "  all  my  pictures  have 
sold.  I  have  earned  too  much  money  this  year.  Now  I 
shall  not  begin  another  till  November,  and  to  this  old 
country  town  I  shall  return  no  more." 

She  did  not  reply.  Indeed,  to  my  speeches  she  fre 
quently  made  no  answer,  but  now  I  felt  her  silence  like  a 
reproach. 

"  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  that  ?  "  I  asked  at  length. 

"  Nothing  but  good-by,"  she  said. 

"  Good-by  ?  good-by  ? "  I  repeated.  "  I  have  not 
thought  of  that.  I  cannot  say  good-by  to  you,  Eos.  I 
will  not  travel  to  a  region  without  sunshine,  blue  sky, 
and  universal  air ;  without  darkness  and  stillness  and 
fragrance  and  you.  You  must  go  with  me,  Eos." 

So  Eos  went  with  me. 

I  am  one  of  those  who  have  no  right  to  marriage-vows, 
in  whom  self-love  excludes  love,  who  find  home  so  thor 
oughly  in  all  the  wide  beauty  of  the  world  that  they  do 
not  need  one  hearth,  and  a  woman  sitting  by  it.  I  said 

8*  L 


178  DESERT   SANDS. 

to  myself,  I  cannot  serve  two  masters.  I  did  not  know 
that  in  serving  Eos  I  served  God. 

Of  what  use  is  regret  ?  will  it  restore  ?  Let  me  only 
remember,  remember  those  passionate  seasons  when  I 
absorbed  another  life  into  mine,  and  remember  with  sav 
age  joy  and  celerity. 

That  summer  we  journeyed  as  I  had  intended,  except 
that  when  I  walked  she  rode  by  my  side.  Sometimes 
when  I  climbed  a  crag,  she  waited  for  me  at  its  base ; 
again,  I  sketched  some  bold  play  of  cloud  shadows  over 
wide  intervals,  and  then  fleeing  forward  to  become  part 
of  the  scene  — 

"  More  fleet  she  skimmed  the  plains 
Than  she  whose  elfin  courser  springs 
By  night  to  eery  warblings, 
When  all  the  glimmering  moorland  rings 
To  jingling  bridle-reins." 

Yet  always  she  came  circling  back  to  me,  like  the  moth 
to  its  flame.  She  was  blithe  as  birds  at  dawn,  airier  than 
glancing  foam-flakes  are ;  she  took  like  a  prism  all  the 
white  rays  of  happiness  into  her  bosom,  and  sparkled 
them  out  in  rainbows  on  those  about  her.  When  the 
autumn  came,  we  went  into  a  country  ripe  with  color, 
while  the  year  set  like  the  sun.  All  this  time  my  art 
had  been  in  abeyance,  I  had  found  that  life  was  some 
thing  different  from  my  thought ;  Eos  was  my  wife,  this 
summer  I  was  a  bridegroom,  for  a  brief  three  months, 
at  least,  I  loved  as  I  was  loved.  One  day  I  opened 
my  easel,  chalked  my  sketch,  and  then  went  out  alone. 
Returning,  I  held  clearly  the  thing  that  I  would  paint, 
the  fine,  keen  drawing,  the  clarity  of  tint,  the  strength  of 
color;  I  took  my  brushes  and  worked.  The  next  day 
and  another  I  did  the  same ;  nothing  came  of  it ;  the  old 


IXESEKT  SANDS.  179 

inspiration  failed,  my  hand  was  powerless,  my  secret  lost, 
my  fancy  dead.  I  said,  Life  has  been  too  rich,  it  has  im 
poverished  art ;  that  shall  cease.  That  did  cease. 

In  the  evening,  as  I  stood  at  the  window,  silent  and 
resolved,  Eos  came  and  crept  again  into  my  arms  ;  I  suf 
fered  her  to  remain,  but  I  did  not  tighten  my  clasp,  give 
her  kiss  or  caress,  or  call  her  by  any  new  endearing  name. 
It  was  hard  at  first,  that  once  it  was  hard,  afterwards  it 
cost  me  no  such  effort,  and  became  habit.  It  is  true  that 
now  and  then,  when  south  winds  blew,  when  some  divine 
day  melted  in  heaven,  youth  and  love  returned  to  me,  my 
heart  expanded  in  their  warmth,  passion  wrapped  me  in 
its  cloud,  and  I  sought  Eos.  She  was  always  there,  she 
never  swerved  from  following  me.  Before  the  close,  such 
days  only  plunged  me  deeper  in  the  intoxication  of  their 
own  beauty,  only  bent  me  more  earnestly  to  my  purpose. 
It  may  be  that  I  should  have  suffered  her  to  help  me,  that 
she  should  have  mounted  with  me  step  for  step ;  but  she 
could  not,  she  kept  me  at  her  level.  I  was  right,  I  knew 
that  I  was  right ;  when  I  had  attained,  I  should  have 
turned  to  her  again.  She  was  not  strong  enough  to  wait, 
and  so  the  game  was  lost. 

In  November,  we  went  to  the  city.  I  said  to  her, 
"  One  must  not  be  niggardly.  You  shall  go  home  awhile 
now,  they  have  never  been  so  long  parted  from  you 
before.  I  can  spare  you." 

Perhaps,  but  for  that  last  sentence  she  would  not  have 
gone.  As  it  was,  she  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  forebode 
evil.  Then  I  lost  no  time  in  putting  myself  at  work. 
But  before  the  third  week  of  her  absence  I  found  that  all 
was  useless  without  her.  I  needed  her,  she  must  be 
about  me,  she  must,  in  fact,  give  all  and  receive  nothing. 
I  brought  her  back. 


180  DESERT   SANDS. 

On  arriving  at  her  father's  house  that  evening,  I  could 
not  but  contrast  the  cheer  with  the  forlorn,  place  I  had 
left,  —  for  then  I  was  not  rich,  —  the .  crimson  shadows, 
the  sparkling  firelight ;  they  had  a  warm  welcome  for  me, 
for  they  knew  nothing  of  my  conduct,  and,  indeed,  what 
was  there  to  know,  I  asked  myself;  Eos  was  not  unhap 
py,  she  had  a  woman's  quick  perception,  saw  its  necessity, 
and  adapted  herself  to  it.  Once  in  the  evening,  when  we 
were  alone  a  moment,  she  came  and  said : 

"  I  did  not  expect  you.  I  am  surprised.  I  thought 
you  could  spare  me." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  cannot  have  you  away.  Eos,  you 
are  my  sun,  the  light  in  which  I  live.  How  did  I  live 
before  I  knew  you,  love  ?  " 

She  laid  her  cheek  upon  my  arm,  the  dumb  caress 
touched  me,  and  I  stroked  her, hair;  so  rare  had  any 
expression  on  my  part  become,  that  the  least  now  thrilled 
her  with  a  timid  joy,  I  think. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  she,  "  I  had  begun  to  feel  as  if  it 
were  all  a  dream,  to  fancy  that  the  little  glimpse  of  differ 
ent  life,  this  summer's  snatch  of  delight,  was  something  I 
had  slept  through,  that  I  was  not  your  wife,  at  all,  but  just 
Eos  here  at  home." 

I  started ;  that  must  not  be  ;  least  of  all,  now  that  her 
cousin  Alain  was  here  again,  he  whose  relationship  al 
lowed  a  brother's  freedom  with  her,  and  who,  by  his 
quick  eye  and  traveller-instinct,  would  tell  at  a  glance 
how  things  lay. 

"  Ah  ?  "  I  said  lightly,  "  has  it  reached  that,  —  Eos  at 
home  away  from  me  ?  But  you  are  my  wife,  you  know, 
and  to-morrow  we  will  go." 

"No,"  she  said,  lifting  her  head,  "to-morrow  I  shall 
not  go.  I  wish  to  stay  a  day  longer." 


DESERT  SANDS.  181 

"  Eos  with  a  will  of  her  own  ?  "  I  replied  now,  amused 
at  the  phenomenon.  "  I  have  half  the  mind  to  indulge  it, 
and  see  where  the  caprice  ends." 

Just  then  Alain  entered.  I  kept  my  arm  round  Eos 
till  she  withdrew  and  took  her  work.  Alain  found  some 
charts  and  began  to  examine  them;  he  would  shortly 
leave  for  Algiers,  to  join  his  father's  regiment  there,  for 
on  one  side  he  was  of  French  extraction,  and  the  knowl 
edge  of  the  dangers  and  monotonies  in  the  life  he  was 
henceforward  to  lead  caused  every  one's  manners  to 
wear  an  additional  air  of  kindness  in  his  regard.  As 
I  looked  at  him  now,  I  acknowledged  that  his  was  the 
most  faultless  face  I  had  ever  seen ;  had  I  been  a  figure 
painter,  I  could  have  asked  no  greater  boon  than  perpet 
ual  companionship  with  such  beauty ;  as  it  was,  to  have 
seen  him  once  was  to  have  seen  him  too  often.  He  had 
that  air  of  easy  command,  that  gracious  coolness  which 
carries  everything  before  it.  I  saw  at  once  that  through 
my  error  all  was  in  train  for  a  catastrophe.  We  would 
go  to-morrow,  I  thought ;  not  an  instant  would  we  delay ; 
no  wonder  she  wished  to  stay ;  this  man,  with  his  sedu 
cing  graces,  could  win  a  saint  from  heaven,  —  and  it  was 
not  heaven  from  which  Eos  was  to  be  won.  Then  I  be 
came  aware  that  I  was  possessed  of  jealousy.  I  had 
hoped  such  a  possibility  was  over,  and  could  scarcely 
remember  the  time  in  which  I  had  been  so  utterly  dis 
pleased  with  myself.  In  revenge,  I  was  on  the  point  of 
allowing  her  the  desired  day ;  the  wounded  fiend  turned 
in  my  heart  at  the  thought,  and  whispered,  In  that  day, 
watch  !  I  strangled  it  with  a  death-grip. 

"  Eos,"  I  said,  "  I  have  business  in  the  next  town,  and 
you  have  two  days  more  at  home." 

But  had  my  life  depended  thereon,  I  could  not  hinder 


182  DESERT   SANDS. 

myself  from  hastening  through  my  affairs,  and  back  again. 
Still,  however,  I  did  not  immediately  seek  the  house,  but 
returned  there  only  after  a  long  walk  undertaken  to  sub 
due  this  last  spark  of  the  heart's  rebellion.  It  wanted  yet 
an  hour  to  sunset ;  I  turned  the  handle  of  the  parlor-door 
and  entered  noiselessly.  An  easel  stood  beside  the  win 
dow,  before  it,  with  stick  and  palette,  sat  my  wife ;  Alain 
was  by  her  side. 

"  Will  he  be  pleased  ?  "  asked  she.  "  It  is  finished,  but 
is  it  fine  ?  " 

I  stole  behind  them,  and  looked  at  the  canvas  :  a  cliff, 
yet  blue  ip  heavy  night-shadows,  was  rent  apart,  and  in 
the  rift  a  brook  —  a  thread  of  limpid  water  —  crept  down 
and  curled  from  reach  to  reach  to  lose  itself  in  dimness  ;  a 
tuft  of  long  bearded  grass,  half-guessed,  bent  forward  and 
shook  its  awns  in  a  wind ;  a  young  birch  shivered  with 
the  tremors  of  its  perpetual  joy,  half-way  up  on  the  other 
side  ;  and  in  a  sky  of  dark  and  tender  twilight,  the  morn 
ing  star  hung,  and  tricked  her  beams  in  the  stream  below. 
For  an  instant  I  could  not  detect  the  faults ;  nothing  that 
I  had  done  equalled  it. 

"  It  is  perfect !  "  I  exclaimed. 

Eos  started,  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  hid  her  face  in  my 
cloak.  Alain  grasped  my  hand. 

u  You  are  noble,  Ruy  Diaz  ! "  said  he  (for  so  they  often 
travestied  the  first  syllable  of  my  name),  "  I  beg  your  for 
giveness  for  having  feared  your  surprise  would  not  be  so 
agreeable.  You  humble  me ! " 

I  bent  back  Eos's  head  and  kissed  the  blushing  forehead 
for  reply.  Nevertheless,  he  was  wrong.  I  was  not  pleased. 
I  did  not  love  Art  well  enough  to  give  my  wife  to  it ;  I  did 
not  want  a  rival  in  her ;  above  all,  I  could  not  have  her  sa 
cred  name  on  everybody's  lips.  She  was  mine,  not  theirs. 


DESERT  SANDS.  183 

Had  I  kept  her  apart  and  hidden,  veiling  her  when  she 
went  out,  always  accompanying  her,  scarcely  suffering 
her  existence  to  be  known,  now  to  hear  other  men  discuss 
her  merits  and  demerits  and  slime  her  with  their  praise  ? 
What  an  enigma  I  present  to  my  own  understanding^!  I 
loved  her  only  as  a  part  of  myself.  I  allowed  her  no  in 
tegral  life. 

«  No  fault  to  find  ?  "  asked  Eos  at  length. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  answered,  "  doubtless  there  are  plenty.  I 
could  tell  you  there  is  no  composition,  color  crude,  senti 
ment  too  intense.  But  to  what  use  ?  " 

"  To  improve  me." 

"  Well,  and  if  I  do  not  wish  to  improve  you,  sweet  ? 
Whose  picture  is  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  mine,"  said  Alain,  entrenched  in  his  former  sus 
picion.  "  She  has  given  it  to  me." 

"  And  what  do  you  design  to  do  with  it,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     I  shall  exhibit  it  at  Dash  and  Blank's." 

"  I  shall  be  extremely  displeased  at  any  such  course." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  Alain,  dryly. 

"  But  you  are  mistaken.  Nothing  can  give  me  greater 
pleasure  than  this  discovery.  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  in  my 
wife  a  kindred  soul ;  genius  gives  her  new  links  to  me,  art 
seals  her  mine  indeed,  she  is  nearer  and  dearer  because 
of  this  immortal  flame  in  her  spirit.  I  am  glad,  darling," 
I  said,  folding  her  closer,  "  and  is  not  my  joy  enough  ?  " 

"  It  is  enough ! "  said  Eos  fervently,  clinging  to  me. 

And  so  the  picture  was  never  shown. 

That  evening,  as  Eos  busied  herself  with  her  needles 
and  her  skeins  of  brilliant  worsteds,  and  Alain  was  intent 
upon  his  charts  again,  I  drew  near  the  table  and  took  up 
a  little  book  of  French  sentiment,  that  bore  his  pencilling?. 

"  What  balderdash ! "  I  exclaimed ;  "  any  woman  could 


184  DESERT   SANDS. 

have  told  him  better.  Eos,  what  is  it  that  a  woman  loves 
best  in  a  man  ?  " 

"  His  selfishness,"  said  Alain,  without  looking  up. 

"  No,"  replied  Eos,  "  not  exactly,  not  at  all.  But  a 
certain  self-poise,  something  that  convicts  her  of  the  fact 
that  he  can  do  without  her." 

"  And  is  that  what  you  find  in  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Could  you  do  without  me  ?  "  she  replied,  archly,  and 
with  the  smile  that,  when  she  was  happy  enough  to  shed 
it,  always  brought  me  to  her  feet.  I  could  reply  only 
with  my  gaze  ;  never  had  I  been  so  conscious  of  my  love 
as  at  that  moment,  of  my  need  of  her,  of  her  grace,  her 
sweetness,  her  perfection ;  my  whole  soul  trembled  in  my 
eyes  to  meet  her  own.  She  must  have  been  aware,  and 
yet  she  refused  to  look  up,  and  bent  but  the  lower  over 
her  needles.  Alain  rose  and  left  the  room  for  dividers. 
I  resolved  to  lift  those  mutinous  lids  and  gain  the  glance 
that  was  surely  beneath.  For  a  moment  she  remained 
motionless,  then  slowly  raised  her  head  and  suffered  me 
to  see  that  tears  streamed  over  the  face.  Instantly  I  was 
beside  her. 

"  Eos,"  I  exclaimed,  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

She  dropped  the  work  and  threw  her  arms  about  me. 

"  Oh,  I  fear  that  you  could  do  without  me,  I  know  that 
you  could  !  I  already  oppress  you  !  I  wish  I  were  dead ! " 
she  cried,  sobbing  convulsively. 

"  Darling,"  I  murmured,  "  in  the  day  you  died,  I,  too, 
should  cease  to  live." 

Still  she  clasped  me,  still  wept. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Eos,"  I  asked,  "  to  convince  you  how 
dear  you  are  ?  " 

"  Only  forgive  me  now,"  she  murmured,  with  fresh  grief. 

I  heard  Alain's  step.     "  You  are  weak  and  nervous,"  I 


DESERT  SANDS.  185 

said,  as  I  felt  myself  shaken  with  the  violence  of  her  emo 
tion.  "  You  have  applied  too  closely  of  late.  And,  Eos,  — 
I  do  not  wish  to  grieve  you,  but  you  must  control  your 
self.  Such  outbursts,  such  vehemence,  are  not  at  all  to 
my  taste." 

At  the  word,  she  rebounded  like  a  steel  spring,  and 
hardly  was  she  in  her  seat  before  Alain  re-entered. 

The  next  day,  remembrance  of  the  last  evening's  dis 
turbance  effaced,  we  returned  to  the  city.  For  four 
months  I  worked  breathlessly;  every  day  when  Eos  had 
finished  her  little  household  cares,  she  came  and  sat  near 
me ;  is  it  strange  that  the  work  was  beautiful,  when  so 
constantly  she  sent  her  soul  into  it  ?  In  the  evenings  we 
went  out,  down  the  damp  streets  —  snow  or  rain  or  whis 
tling  east  —  shooting  along  the  slippery  pavements,  she 
and  I  together,  in  the  light  of  flaring  gas  and  the  great 
squares  of  color,  amethyst,  ruby,  and  emerald,  spread  from 
the  chemists'  windows.  Sometimes  I  left  her  for  a  club, 
or  a  play,  sometimes  we  both  needed  music.  I  had  my 
aim  in  the  world ;  I  was  reaching  it.  Whether  I  were 
happy  or  not  did  not  occur  to  me,  whether  Eos  were 
happy  or  not  I  did  not  pause  to  ask.  It  was  then  that  I 
first  saw  Vespasia. 

One  February  morning  Eos  had  not  yet  come  in,  some 
one  mounted  the  stair  and  knocked :  it  was  a  footman  with 
the  card  of  Mrs.  Dean  Vivian.  Immediately  on  his  de 
parture,  another  step  followed,  and  Mrs.  Dean  Vivian  her 
self  enfered. 

She  was  an  imposing  woman,  not  so  much  through 
height  as  proportion,  neither  in  the  splendor  of  her  ar 
ray  —  though  that  was  considerable,  and  was  necessary 
to  such  a  face  —  so  completely  as  in  the  grace  which  ren 
dered  it,  unlike  that  of  so  many  women,  merely  an  ac 
cessory. 


186  -DESERT  SANDS. 

"  If  I  may  command  your  time,  Mr.  Sydney,"  said  a 
voice  that  I  could  compare  to  nothing  but  the  mellow 
sweetness  of  a  too-ripe  pear,  as  her  skin  to  the  soft  and 
smooth  gold-brown  of  the  beurre,  illumined  as  it  was  by 
the  sinister  contrast  of  eyes  wearing  the  lustre  and  almost 
the  tint  of  emeralds.  "  If  I  may  command  your  time,  Mr. 
Sydney,"  and  the  smile  that  always  accompanied  her  words 
broke  up  the  face  into  vivid  beauty,  "  I  wish  to  examine 
your  portfolios  and  to  order  a  pendant  for  your  '  Mist  on 
the  Meadows/  which  I  lately  purchased." 

"  My  time  is  at  Mrs.  Vivian's  service  for  an  hour,  after 
that  I  regret  an  engagement,"  I  stated,  for  it  is  always 
best  to  meet  such  imperious  dames  on  their  own  ground. 
The  manner  had  the  desired  effect. 

"  Perhaps,  then,  another  day  would  be  more  opportune," 
she  said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied,  wheeling  a  rack  toward  her. 
"  Be  seated,  and  allow  me."  She  sank  into  a  chair, 
sweeping  her  violet  draperies  about  her,  and  turned  the 
sheets. 

"An  effect  of  Kearsarge  in  cloud,"  I  said  rapidly. 
"  Rainbows  in  Pemigewasset  valley,  —  Spray  at  Apple- 
dore,  —  Montmorenci  seen  from  —  " 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  detaining  it,  "  that  is  well  arrested  ; 
curled  in  foam,  a  fleece  upon  the  azure.  Why  do  you 
not  elaborate  it  ?  " 

"  Some  day  I  may."  I  opened  another  portfolio. 
"  These  are  studies,"  I  added,  "  attempts  at  sentiment 
rather  than  scenery.  I  have  fused  and  inwrought  them 
with  the  spirit  of  the  line  which  they  illustrate.  God's 
own  profound :  the  melancholy  main  :  Ariel  fetching  dew 
by  midnight  from  the  still-vexed  Bermoothes." 

Mrs.  Vivian  surveyed  each  with  the  swift  eye  of  a  con- 


DESERT  SANDS.  187 

noisseur,  noted  its  points,  and  passed  to  the  next.  Soon 
she  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  folded  her  hands.  "  Ah, 
well,"  said  she,  "  you  would  certainly  play  the  showman 
till  I  went,  if  permitted." 

"  Excuse  me.  I  am  merely  condensing  your  time, 
madam,"  I  responded. 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you  there ;  but  I  knew  the  artist  well 
enough  before,  and  in  his  works.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
should  like  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  individual. 
Am  I  too  presuming?" 

"  I  can  assure  Mrs.  Vivian  that  only  as  the  artist  should 
I  repay  her  trouble,"  I  answered,  sincerely  enough,  for  my 
experience  taught  me  that  I  had  already,  in  theory,  ab 
jured  my  human  side. 

"  We  shall  see,"  she  replied,  so  coolly  that  I  was 
nettled. 

"  And  it  is  only  as  the  artist  that  I  care  to  be  known," 
I  added. 

"  Making  headway  famously,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
low  laugh.  "Ah,  Mr.  Sydney,  I  always  succeed  !  If 
portraiture  were  your  branch,  I  should  sit  to  you  for  a 
child  of  the  sun,  —  I  am  East  Indian  by  birth  —  as  it  is, 
I  shall  be  your  guest  continually  while  my  picture  pro 
ceeds,  and  you  must  be  mine  when  it  is  hung.  Are  such 
orders,  such  visitors,  unwarrantable  ?  " 

"  Such  orders  are  frequent  enough,  such  visitors  rare." 

"  I  see  you  can  be  genial,  on  occasion.  That  gives  me 
heart  to  beg  your  company  at  dinner  next  week ;  some 
beautiful  women,  some  sparkling  wits,  some  poets  and 
men  of  your  sib." 

"  It  is  impossible,  thank  you.  I  cannot  infringe  upon 
my  rule  even  for  such  enticement." 

Here  Mrs.  Vivian  rose  and  sailed  slowly   about   the 


188  DESERT   SANDS. 

room,  scrutinizing  its  arrangements  ;  pulling  aside  a  frag 
ment  of  gold  brocade  that  hung  from  the  arm  of  an 
antique  and  swept  the  floor,  she  extended  her  long  arm, 
brought  out  an  object  from  its  screen,  and  inspected  it. 

It  was  a  spot  of  swamp  where  the  rhodora  grows  in 
leafless  bloom,  and  the  purple  blossoms  crowding  the 
place  danced  on  the  tips  of  their  long  stems  like  a  swarm 
of  brilliant  insects  late  lit  from  southern  gales,  waving 
their  antennae,  rustling  their  wings,  eager  and  tremulous 
for  fresh  flight.  It  bore  as  motto,  written  in  delicate 
characters  beneath,  the  line: 

"  In  May,  when  sea-winds  pierced  our  solitudes." 

"  I  must  have  it !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  dainty  and 
matchless,  —  quite  out  of  your  style.  Is  the  price  fixed, 
Mr.  Sydney?" 

"  It  has  no  price,  madam." 

"  But  you  will  arrange  one  ?  Pray  don't  hesitate." 
And  she  named  enormous  sums. 

"  The  thing  is  a  trifle,"  I  replied,  "  not  worth  a  fraction 
of  what  you  mention.  Nevertheless,  I  cannot  part  with 
it." 

"  But  my  heart  is  set  upon  it.  Pardon  me  —  I  am 
rich." 

"  You  are  not  rich  enough  to  buy  it." 

"  Then  it  is  of  value  to  you,  —  not  your  handiwork, 
perhaps  ?  Whose  then  ?  May  I  ask  the  artist's  name  ? 
Who  painted  this  exquisite  bit?" 

I  was  more  annoyed  than  I  could  express,  dropped  my 
palette  and  pencils  with  a  clang,  stooped  to  collect  them, 
and  then,  as  she  still  paused  for  a  reply,  gave  one : 

"  My  wife." 

"  Ah !  —  I  had  heard  —  I  was  scarcely  aware  —  "  and 
here  she  ceased,  in  order  to  examine  the  picture  anew. 


DESERT  SANDS.  189 

Mrs.  Vivian  owed  her  usual  success,  as  many  others 
do,  to  a  want  of  delicacy. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  she,  "  your  wife  can  paint  you  another  ; 
as  for  me  — "  and  she  held  it  arm's  length  while  gazing. 

I  took  the  picture  from  her  hand,  as  if  she  had  wished 
to  relinquish  it,  and  restored  it  to  its  former  place.  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly. 

"I  shall  see  that  wife,  Mr.  Sydney,  never  fear,  and 
engage  her  good  services  on  my  own  behalf.  In  what 
seclusion  she  is  cloistered.  Is  she  from  Stamboul  ?  Do 
you  keep  a  seraglio?  ....  Then  you  will  not  dine  with 
me?"  she  added,  rising,  and  fixing  the  glittering  eyes 
upon  me. 

"  I  deplore  my  inability." 

"  Which  means  that  you  could  if  you  chose."  She 
paused  a  moment  before  my  easel,  and  adventurously 
raised  the  curtain.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  what  satisfaction  I 
find  in  your  work  ?  "  she  said.  "  If  one  must  link  Emer 
son's  sentences  with  chains  of  their  own  logic,  and  if 
Shakespeare  leaves  always  room  for  your  imagination, 
some  painters  possess  the  same  great  quality.  In  won 
dering  at  the  boldness  of  your  effects,  I  remember  how 
Beethoven  'permitted'  consecutive  fifths." 

She  dropped  the  curtain  and  moved  on. 

"I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  of  calling  upon  Mrs. 
Sydney,  shortly,"  she  continued,  as  a  work-basket  caught 
her  eye. 

"  I  thank  you,  but  Mrs.  Sydney  does  not  receive  calls," 
I  replied. 

She  laughed,  and  the  flash  of  white  teeth  completed 
her  extremes  of  color.  At  the  door  she  paused  to  disturb 
a  pile  of  pencil-drawings. 

"  Wood-scenes  ?    Illustrations  ?  "  she  said.     "  Ah,  By- 


190  DESERT   SANDS. 

ron's  Dream,  I  see.  You  comprehend  so  various  man 
ners,  from  fresco  to  missal !  Have  you  ever  seen  a 
missal,  by  the  way?" 

"  Never." 

"  No  ?  I  have  one,  a  gorgeous  little  thing,  the  work 
of  Attavante,  the  Florentine.  I  shall  have  pleasure  in 
placing  it  at  your  disposal."  And  resting  her  perfectly 
gloved  hand  in  mine  a  moment,  she  bowed,  smiled,  and 
was  gone." 

In  the  afternoon  I  received  a  parcel  with  Mrs.  Dean 
Vivian's  compliments.  It  was  the  missal,  in  a  case  of 
carved  sandal-wood.  Within  was  written,  in  faded  ink  : 
Vespasia  —  Rome,  —  and  a  date  of  some  ten  years  before. 
She  was  then  probably  far  my  senior,  and  while  looking 
at  it,  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  morning's  guest  had  been 
some  creature  of  the  old  Latin  reign,  and  that  the  seal 
dropped  from  her  chatelain  had  its  device  —  Vce  Victis  — 
in  her  native  tongue. 

To  the  surprise  of  Eos,  I  left  everything  for  the  exam 
ination  of  this  treasure  —  its  arabesques,  its  floral  wealth, 
its  grotesque  and  brilliant  fancies,  its  colors  that  defied 
time.  At  length  I  put  it  in  my  pocket  and  went  out.  I 
walked  far ;  it  was  impossible  to  return  till  the  mood  that 
was  on  me  should  be  past.  I  could  not  keep  my  thoughts 
away  from  the  superb  thing  that  had  that  morning  filled 
my  vision  —  from  the  serpentine  grace,  the  splendid 
hues,  the  daring,  dazzling  manner ;  it  was  new,  and  fas 
cinated  like  a  vision  of  Lamia.  I  might  have  thought 
that  my  over-wrought  fancy  had  belied  me,  but  the  casket 
of  spicy  wood  that  enclosed  the  precious  fardel  lay  under 
my  hand,  and  was  actual.  This  woman  seemed  to  me 
some  Oriental  creature  of  fire  and  strength,  and  not  in 
herself  so  much  as  in  her  suggestion,  I  was  charmed.  All 


DESERT  SANDS.  191 

'  the  old  Eastern  dream  of  my  youth  —  picture  of  palm- 
tree  and  desert  —  wrapped  me  at  remembrance  of  her. 
When  I  returned  home,  at  twilight,  Eos  was  sleeping  in 
a  chair  by  the  grate  ;  a  book  had  slipped  from  her  hand 
to  the  floor ;  it  was  the  Arabian  Nights.  I  took  it ; 
and  as  I  read  by  the  flickering  flame  awhile,  the  spell 
grew  deeper ;  I  saw  Damascus's  gardens  of  delight,  Cairo's 
streets  of  grottoed  shadow,  the  stainless  sky  of  Philoe, 
the  Nile,  mystery  of  mysteries.  I  wondered  how  I  had 
endured  life  with  this  pale  phantom  of  a  woman;  I 
cursed  the  dense  and  crowded  air.  The  sting  was  upon 
me  ;  henceforth  though  I  lingered,  my  tent  was  struck. 

Day  followed  day  now,  and  yet  I  achieved  nothing. 
Eos  saw  that  some  trouble  oppressed  me  ;  she  could  not 
become  sweeter  than  before,  but  she  made  me  feel  her 
sweetness  more,  and  she  lavished  such  vital  force  as  she 
possessed  in  counteracting  the  fatal  influence ;  but  what 
spell,  what  magnetism,  could  so  feeble  a  nature  exercise 
against  the  all-potent  one  of  that  jewel-eyed  enchantress  ? 
She  endeavored  to  soothe  me  with  her  quiet,  to  cheer 
me  with  her  sunshine  ;  she  sang  to  me  almost  constantly, 
since  frequently,  when  my  sense  of  color  became  involved, 
fine  tints,  clear  contrasts,  rich  combinations,  unrolled  them 
selves  to  my  thought  at  her  singing-voice.  She  twined 
fresh  vines  about  the  casts ;  she  brought  in  her  camellia- 
bush,  mooned  and  cresseted  with  spotless  blossom ;  she 
heaped  vase  and  shell  with  mounds  of  snowy  bloom  :  the 
only  odor,  that  faintly  distilled  from  some  pure  and  dewy- 
cool  moss-rose.  It  was  all  in  vain.  The  first  time  I  went 
to  Vespasia's,  the  house  reeked  with  the  insidious  perfume 
of  a  daphne-tree 

Vespasia  came  also  to  me.  She  begged  me  not  to 
cease  work,  and  found  herself  a  seat.  I  obeyed ;  for 


192  DESERT   SANDS. 

beneath  her  eyes  I  felt  a  power  not  my  own  flow  through 
my  fingers  and  enrich  my  canvas.  While  I  worked,  I 
recognized  her  will,  her  magic,  as  she  reclined  in  the  low 
chair  behind  me ;  I  submitted  to  her  ordination,  to  the 
influx  of  foreign  force ;  my  creations  grew  instinct  with 
loveliness,  the  color  spilled  ripe  and  profuse  from  my 
pencil.  A  door  opened,  and  Eos,  unaware,  stepped  down. 
I  hesitated,  looked  at  her,  and  thought  of  St.  Lucia  bear 
ing  light  to  the  blind ;  my  line  faltered,  my  hand  remained 
palsied,  as  it  were :  so  might  a  Madonna  confront  the 
Venus  of  Titian.  She  welcomed  the  other  in  distant 
courtesy,  but  continued  standing  by  the  easel,  firm,  mild, 
and  with,  so  to  say,  a  gentle  diffusive  influence ;  they  were 
antagonists,  and  Vespasia  retreated. 

Vespasia  came  to  my  studio  no  more,  but  not  once  or 
twice  only  did  I  seek  her,  it  became  a  constant  custom. 
Every  evening  I  was  her  guest,  by  her  side  I  heard  all 
choice  music,  her  lips  persuaded  with  honeyed  eloquence, 
her  presence  was  a  cup  of  intoxication,  she  was  an  adept 
in  all  ravishing  arts.  Did  I  then  love  her  ?  No ;  I  loved 
Eos  as  far  as  I  could  love  at  all ;  but  Vespasia's  bound 
less  beauty,  with  its  strange  tone, -her  luxurious  habit, 
her  sumptuous  surroundings,  her  prodigality  of  spirit  and 
person  and  array,  were  like  some  rich  oil  that  fed  the 
flame  of  my  genius  till  nothing  seemed  impossible  to  me. 
But  for  the  other  —  did  she  keep  watch  and  wait  ?  did 
her  cheek  grow  pale,  her  eye  restless  ?  did  she  gather 
greater  quiet  and  more  enduring  patience  ?  In  all  this 
weary  while,  what  became  of  Eos? 

One  night  I  was  with  Vespasia  at  the  opera.  She  was 
magnificent ;  she  was  very  gay,  I  fancy,  also  ;  but  though 
I  kept  my  gaze  fixed  on  her,  I  listened  only  to  the  music. 
As  the  curtain  fell  on  the  first  act  of  Der  Freyschiitz,  her 


DESERT  SANDS.  193 

eyes  flashed  for  an  instant  toward  the  opposite  portion  of 
the  house,  and  then  I  saw  that  she  was  exerting  all  her 
charms  to  retain  my  attention.  Following  a  furtive 
glance  thrown  again  at  the  same  point,  I  met  that  of 
Eos.  She  was  white  and  radiant,  her  eyes  darkened  and 
glittering.  Beside  her  sat  Alain.  I  excused  myself  for 
a  few  moments,  and  joined  her. 

"  Eos  ?  "  I  said.  "  And  here  ?  I  left  you  at  home,  I 
thought." 

"  Certainly  you  did,"  said  Alain,  in  a  low  tone,  before 
she  could  reply.  "  I  arrived  in  your  absence,  and  saw 
that  the  first  thing  she  needed  was  diversion ;  and  the 
next,  a  journey,  which  I  hope  to  be  able  to  persuade  her 
to  take,  and  to  take  in  the  direction  of  her  old  home." 

I  bent  across  Eos,  so  that  none  but  he  could  hear  me : 

"  M.  Duchenecosur  knows,  perhaps,  the  price  of  such 
interference  ?  "  I  murmured. 

"  And  always  meets  his  obligations,"  was  the  reply, 
with  an  indignant  glance. 

I  offered  Eos  my  hand,  she  rose,  and  we  stepped  into  a 
coach  at  the  vestibule.  I  did  not  suffer  her  to  sit  aloof, 
but  held  her  in  my  arms,  cheek  to  cheek.  Perhaps  I 
thought  she  understood  me,  perhaps  I  did  not  care.  I 
left  her  in  the  studio,  re-entered  the  coach,  drove  furi 
ously  back,  and  rejoined  Vespasia  as  the  curtain  rose 
again.  I  was  more  disturbed  than  I  wished  should  ap 
pear.  I  was  half  aware  that  some  dream  was  broken, 
but  turned  and  composed  myself  anew,  like  one  who 
wished  to  continue  it.  Perhaps  nothing  could  have 
aroused  my  attention,  and  therefore  calmed  me,  sooner 
than  the  terrible  diablerie  of  this  drama,  while  its  music 
was  like  a  soothing  hand  on  weary  eyelids.  I  was  again 
in  the  atmosphere  of  this  regal  woman,  again  breathing 


194  DESERT   SANDS. 

her  magic,  stilled  in  her  affluence  ;  again  at  the  breath  of 
horn  and  flute,  with  the  chord  of  braided  harmony  —  all 
soft  and  grateful  color  swathed  me.  I  went  home  with 
Vespasia ;  others  were  there,  the  rooms  were  ringing,  I 
stood  shrouded  in  a  curtain  and  looking  out.  There  were 
the  pavements  wet  with  spring  rain  and  shining  in  the 
light.  There  was  a  woman  with  her  shawl  wrapped 
closely  about  her,  leaning  against  the  lamp-post,  her 
white  face  bent  upward  and  covering  the  window  with 
such  a  gaze  as  that  with  which  a  tigress  protects  her 
young  ;  she  had  no  significance  for  me,  —  I  was  wrapped, 
remotely,  in  a  mist  of  bewilderment  and  sense.  Then 
the  others  went,  the  lights  fell,  there  was  only  a  luminous 
blush  in  the  place  from  behind  rosy  transparencies. 
Vespasia  floated  on  toward  me ;  I  left  the  curtain,  and 
sat  at  her  feet. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  she,  "  how  the  Fay  Vivien 
bound  Merlin  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply,  too  involved  in  the  enjoyment  of  deli 
cious  fancy.  Her  arm  was  upon  my  shoulder ;  I  was 
conscious  of  her  form  bending  above  me,  of  the  bunch  of 
geraniums  and  lemon-leaves  that  blazed  upon  her  bosom 
and  loaded  the  air  with  superabundant  sweetness,  of  her 
breath  sweeping  my  cheek.  I  heard  a  voice  that  seemed 
to  issue  from  a  cloud  in  one  swift  murmur : 

"  Sydney,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

A  thorn  of  the  sweetbrier  bud  which  I  had  taken  from 
Eos  stung  my  hand.  I  did  not  look  at  Vespasia,  but 
rose  and  walked  from  the  room,  from  the  house,  out  into 
cool  night  air,  sleet,  and  wind,  and  freedom. 

Reaching  home,  I  sought  Eos.  She  was  neither  in  the 
studio  nor  elsewhere  ;  she  was  not  to  be  found.  A  wild 
suspicion  crossed  me,  —  I  leaped  down  the  stairs  to  the 


DESERT  SANDS.  195 

door ;  something  lay  under  the  shadows  of  the  porch, 
head  drooping,  arm  outflung ;  it  was  she.  I  carried  her 
in  and  summoned  assistance.  She  was  in  a  heavy  stu 
por  ;  with  the  morning,  in  high  fever.  Standing  by  her 
bedside,  I  did  not  remember  our  words  of  the  evening 
before,  when  Alain  entered. 

"  Too  late,  as  I  feared,"  he  said  impetuously.  "  You 
succeed  beyond  my  anticipations.  I  thought  you  had 
only  broken  her  heart,  and  it  seems  you  have  taken  her 
life!" 

I  could  not  care,  just  then,  for  anything  he  might  say 
"  Hush !  "  was  all  I  answered. 

He  looked  about  the  room ;  its  appointments  were 
chaste  and  costly  enough.  "  Yes,"  he  murmured,  "  you 
become  opulent,  or  hold  the  talisman  to  be  so.  Your 
work  commands  enormous  amounts  ;  one  stroke  of  the 

brush  fills  the  purse but  all  your  gold  is  coined  from 

her  heart's  blood  ! " 

"  It  has  not  been  at  my  option  to  do  other  than  I  have 
done,"  I  replied,  somewhat  moved. 

He  laughed  in  his  low-mocking  way.  "  They  are  all 
alike,"  he  muttered  ;  "  from  Attila  to  Sydney,  they  are  all 
the  scourge  of  God,  the  instruments." 

I  put  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  pointed  at  the 
door.  I  was  roused,  and  my  eyes  must  have  flamed. 

He  glanced  back  at  Eos,  and  turned.  "  No,"  he  said, 
"  I  shall  remain ;  she  is  almost  my  sister,  she  will  need 
me,  too." 

"  She  needs  no  one,"  I  exclaimed  in  the  same  sup 
pressed  tone ;  "  she  has  me." 

"  She  will  not  have  you  long,  the  fit  will  pass,  and 
revert  to  your  oil-tubes  and  pencils,"  he  replied  coolly. 
"  Well,  —  I  will  stoop  so  much  and  ask  it :  let  me  stay." 


196  DESERT  SANDS. 

So  he  stayed.  She  was  ill  long ;  so  soon  as  delirium 
and  danger  were  past,  I  resumed  my  painting ;  I  had 
orders  to  fill,  and  ideas  to  elaborate.  I  was  fortunate 
beyond  thought;  I  had  never  so  nearly  brought  my 
performance  to  the  level  of  my  conception.  Weeks 
passed  swiftly,  the  night  went,  the  summer  was  upon 
us.  Alain,  who,  it  may  be,  began  to  see  that  any  other 
than  the  course  which  I  had  pursued  was  impossible 
with  me,  remitted  his  hostility.  More  faithful  and 
careful  than  a  watch-dog,  he  followed  Eos,  wheeled  her 
sofa  into  the  studio,  lifted  and  held  her  that  she  might 
see  me  work,  recounted  to  her  incidents  of  my  fame, 
sang  to  her,  read  to  her,  ransacked  the  markets  for  dainty 
fruits  —  pomegranates  from  Florida,  granadillas,  all  glow 
ing  and  gorgeous  infiltrations  of  tropical  sweetness  and 
wealth.  When  the  twilight  came,  at  close  of  our  wed 
ding-day,  I  took  her  in  my  arms  and  walked  with  her 
till  she  slept.  Alain,  meanwhile,  neglected  none  of  his 
studies ;  he  read  us  his  father's  letters,  and  his  conver 
sation,  when  best  pleased,  was  chiefly  of  his  future  home 
in  the  East  At  the  word,  all  the  old  fire  flashed  up  in 
my  veins,  again  the  desert-mania,  the  pyramids,  the  eter 
nal  sands. 

At  last  Alain  bade  us  farewell  for  years ;  he  was  to 
take  the  Arabia.  Eos  was  restored,  and  on  the  day  of 
his  departure,  we  went  into  the  country  by  the  sea-shore 
Worn  with  watching  and  close  application,  my  eyes 
troubled  me,  and  Eos,  in  the  hours  when  sketching  was 
abandoned,  read  aloud ;  the  book  she  happened  on  was 
Eothen ;  as  she  proceeded,  the  fascination  became  like 
the  eye  of  the  basilisk,  drawing  me  eastward ;  I  bade 
her  exchange  it,  and  she  found  Vathek ;  she  repeated 
to  me  Fatima,  and  she  sang  to  me  a  strange  German 


DESERT  SANDS.  197 

Song  of  Sand.  When  I  walked  by  the  shore,  again  the 
imperious  longing  seized  me;  my  fancy  travelled  along 
this  vast  level  of  calm  seas  to  find  the  loneliness  it  coveted, 
but  not  the  fertilizing  heat,  the  languor,  the  wild  strange 
life ;  —  bitter  salt  and  cold  was  the  sea.  The  desire 
rose  unbidden  perpetually,  it  lingered  against  my  wish, 
it  became  morbid,  and  goaded  me  like  the  gadfly  of 
lo.  I  was  not  ready  for  extended  travel  yet.  America 
I  recognized  as  the  prime  school  of  landscape ;  I  had  a 
principle  in  the  thing,  and  wished  to  drain  the  cup  at  my 
lips  ere  turning  to  the  lees  of  that  drained  centuries  ago  ; 
moreover,  I  feared  lest  originality  should  vanish  before 
the  overpowering  vitality  of  that  old  land,  and  I  fall  into 
mere  worship.  So,  after  a  time,  we  went  back  to  the  city, 
and  so  for  three  years  I  plodded  on.  It  was  not  like  the 
weary  plodding  of  others,  there  was  never  failure,  always 
satisfaction,  always  an  interior  and  intense  joy,  a  joy  over 
the  beauty  that  was  in  the  universe,  and  my  mastery 
thereof,  that  was  a  perennial  intoxication  of  triumph. 
Thus  these  three  years  were  a  season  of  ideal  revelry ; 
at  their  close  I  possessed  myself  in  more  strength  than 
ever  heretofore,  and  yet  the  earth  revealed  to  me  her 
secrets.  Still,  while  I  wore  deeper  and  deeper  the 
grooves  of  my  orbit,  Eos  waited  on  me  pale  and  patient 
as  a  satellite,  —  other  than  so,  she  saw  I  did  not  need  her ; 
she  spoke  little,  she  smiled  only  on  me,  at  my  day  and 
night  absences  she  made  no  word  of  remonstrance,  she 
allowed  me  to  find  pleasure  where  I  might,  convinced  that 
all  was  but  the  nutritive  compost  required  to  bring  the 
germs  of  thought  into  blossom  on  my  canvas ;  she  be 
came  impervious  to  jealousy ;  once,  capable  of  anger  — 
albeit,  angry  as  a  dove's  wing  makes  lightning  —  such  a 
thing  could  no  longer  strike  a  spark  from  her  sensation ; 


198  DESERT  SANDS. 

no  indifference,  or  neglect,  or  wrong,  wrung  from  her 
complaint,  all  suffering  had  found  its  ebullition  in  the 
night  preceding  her  illness :  she  was  Eos  still,  but  with 
out  the  spirit.  There  grew  in  her  eyes  that  look  of 
desolation  to  be  found  in  those  of  so  many  a  tutelary 
saint ;  I  remembered  when  they  were  bluer  than  snow- 
shadows,  and  sparkled  with  perpetual  sunshine. 

It  was  the  third  summer  since  Alain  had  left  us ;  we 
went  to  the  mountains  this  year,  and  with  Eos  at  my 
hand,  I  ranged  them  again.  There  was  hardly  a  crevice 
in  their  old  seamed  sides  which  I  did  not  know.  I  knew 
where  the  black  bear  kept  his  den,  and  where  the  snakes 
coiled,  and  hissed,  and  bred ;  in  the  clouds  upon  their 
summits  I  had  been  wrapped,  in  their  valleys  stifled.  It 
was  a  different  life  that  I  wanted,  a  different  race  of  men 
from  these  stolid  mountaineers  ;  I  wearied  of  the  pastoral 
—  the  shining  armaments  of  war,  the  spear,  and  the  bit, 
were  flashing  ever  before  me  —  my  mind  made  pictures 
that  this  cold  North  could  never  realize. 

One  day,  at  dinner,  there  were  some  fresh  arrivals, 
and,  in  the  course  of  making  acquaintance,  the  conver 
sation  became  personal. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  one.  "  Do  you  know  Mrs. 
Vivian  ?  " 

"  Dean  Vivian's  widow  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,  somebody's  widow;  wealthy,  superb, 
eyes  like  broken  bottle-glass." 

"Oh,  —  very  well." 

"  You  know,  then,  that  she  has  left  Europe  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  she  had  been  there.  "When 
will  she  arrive  ?  " 

"  I  believe  the  passage  is  not  long  from  Marseilles  to 
Alexandria.  She  will  never  arrive  in  America,  she  has 
forsworn  it,  and  returns  to  the  East." 


DESERT  SANDS.  199 

« Indeed  !     That  is  a  great  loss." 

"  Yes,  in  some  respects.  It  is  better,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  have  every  object  fulfil  its  destiny ;  hers  was 
not  in  civilization.  She  always  appeared,  in  my  object- 
glass,  like  some  savage  thing  panting  with  restraint :  one 
of  those  desert-creatures,  full  of  wary,  feline  instincts, 
ready  to  throw  off  mask  and  sheathe  claws  in  the  desired 
prey.  Ah,  sir?  "turning  to  me. 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  replied,  "  she  seemed  to  me  eminently 
human.  I  fancied  there  had  been  Roman  women  like 
her." 

"  Impossible  !  That  is  because  you  misapprehend,  and 
are  led  astray  by  her  name.  I  remembered,  when  I  used 
to  see  her,  the  beautiful  Ghoul  whom  the  Arabian  prince 
married  unawares,  the  genie  and  great  fairy  with  woman- 
faces  and  ophidian  extremities.  Yes,  her  very  gait,  if 
you  ever  noticed,  was  not  like  that  of  most  stately  females, 
it  was  sinuous  or  sidelong,  never  attaining  any  mark  by  a 
straight  line ;  and,  upon  my  soul !  it  would  not  be  hard 
to  take  the  rustle  of  her  silks  for  hissing.  Just  imagine 
the  transformation  as  Keats  has  done.  See  the 

'  Gordian  shape  of  dazzling  hue, 
Vermilion-spotted,  golden,  green,  and  blue, 
Striped  like  a  zebra,  freckled  like  a  pard, 
Eyed  like  a  peacock,  and  all  crimson  barred 
And  full  of  silver  moons,  that  as  she  breathes 
Dissolve,  or  brighter  shine.' 

The  very  Serpent,  slipping  among  the  arid  sparkling 
wastes  of  sand ;  I  expect  yet  to  see  some  of  her  vic 
tims  set  their  heel  upon  her  head.  Well,  it  is  gratify 
ing  to  have  any  substance  acknowledge  its  magnet,  and 
Mrs.  Vivian  takes  to  the  sun  rarely.  It  allows  hope  that, 
by  and  by,  all  the  extraneous  will  filter  off,  and  leave 


200  DESERT  SANDS. 

only,  in  a  millennial  world,  the  pure  ore,  that  is  to  say, 
you  and  I,  sir,  and  little  madam  here  !  "  With  which  he 
bowed  to  his  wife,  and  built  a  ditch  and  glacis  in  her  salt 
cellar,  while  waiting  for  dessert. 

"After  such  a  harangue,  my  dear,"  said  the  lady, 
"your  auditory  will  suspect  you  of  being  one  of  the 
victims." 

"  I  shall  disown  the  (  soft  impeachment/  My  auditory 
know  my  specialty  ;  I  do  not  paint  pictures,  I  paint  char 
acters."  „ 

"  It  is  not  Mrs.  Vivian's  character  so  much  as  her 
personal  suggestions,  that  you  have  sketched,"  I  inter 
posed. 

"  And  they  are  her  character  precisely,  taking  the 
parallax  into  account.  You  know,  sir,  that  the  way  to 
see  a  star  best  is  not  to  look  at  it  directly." 

Here  Eos  rose,  and  I  was  glad  to  follow.  We  wan 
dered  all  the  afternoon,  and  came  at  length  upon  a  wet  spot 
where  the  scarlet  cardinals  grew.  As  I  plucked  and  Eos 
twined  them  in  her  hat,  I  looked  up  the  great  rock  that 
towered  behind,  and  put  my  hand  upon  its  stained  face, 
unheated  by  all  the  August  sun.  I  surveyed  the  narrow 
valley,  the  unyielding  barrier  of  mountains  that  enclosed 
me,  the  pale  sky  that  stretched  cold  and  thin  above  me ; 
I  gathered  another  handful  of  the  cardinals,  and  thought 
of  great  African  lilies,  of  skies  brimmed  with  inexhausti 
ble  azure  that  contrast  with  the  angles  of  a  tent  gives  violet 
tinges  deep  as  the  lees  of  claret.  I  felt  oppressed  by  the 
great  dumb  life  crowding  upon  me,  I  wished  to  push  the 
gigantic  flanks  aside,  I  longed  for  a  sparkle,  a  rush  ;  solid 
and  heavy  and  immobile,  I  desired  the  slight  and  capricious 
and  rapid ;  shut  so  that  my  very  thoughts  met  with  re 
bound  and  struck  again  my  own  breast,  I  would  have  given 


DESERT  SANDS.  201 

half  my  life  for  a  gallop  over  long  flat  sands.  The  table- 
talk,  with  its  hints  of  the  Orient,  had  fanned  the  embers 
to  a  flame ;  my  blood  seemed  to  pour  like  some  fierce 
torrent  against  my  pulse ;  at  each  glance  that  sought  to 
reach  a  distance,  the  hills  opposed  their  opaque  wall; 
included  and  restrained,  I  felt  myself  in  prison  with  all 
their  weight  on  my  soul.  My  heart  beat  in  my  throat, 
I  drew  my  breath  like  fire. 

"  Eos,"  I  said,  "  I  shall  go  to  the  East," 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  was  all  she  replied,  gathering 
up  the  reins. 

"  There  is  nothing  left  me  here,"  I  continued ;  "  the 
great  rivers,  prairies,  everglades,  I  have  sucked  them  all 
dry.  I  may  go  on  with  endless  repetitions  till  we  die. 
Besides,  they  have  no  storied  sanctity,  the  pyramids  do 
not  begin  nor  the  blameless  Ethiops  end  them.  My  eye 
craves  leagues  of  interminable  extent  and  stillness,  distant 
air  tremulous  above  burning  lands,  where  vast  stretches 
are  compressed  in  one  indefinable  line  as  sky  and  earth 
meet,  light  intense  and  overflowing  with  positive  vitality, 
—  strong  enough  to  sting  faint  eyes  to  death.  I  am 
weary  of  undulations,  heights  that  I  can  overtop,  intervals 
whose  boundaries  I  know,  —  I  long  for  level  immeasura 
bility.  It  cannot  be  a  thought  of  Elephantine  caverns 
or  ruined  lauras,  temple,  or  sphinx  ;  it  is  the  wide  horizon, 
the  fathomless  azure,  the  limitless  sand,  —  heat,  and  lan 
guor,  and  life.  I  am  in  fetters  ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  In 
vention  smothered,  expression  checked,  I  cannot  breathe 
this  air ;  I  must  go,  Eos,  I  must  go  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Eos  ;  "  but  it  is  so  long." 

"  So  long !  What  lengthens  our  time  there  more  than 
here  ?  " 

"  Then  I,  also  —  can  I  go  ?  " 


202  DESERT  SANDS. 

"  Can  ?  Must !  After  all,  Eos,  it  is  to  paint  that  I  go 
to  the  East  —  and  without  you  ?  I  might  as  well  paint 
without  daylight." 

"  But  your  heats,  your  languors,  —  I  shall  die,  —  I  am 
not  strong  ;  I  nearly  dissolved  in  Florida,  you  know." 

When  had  Eos  objected  to  any  project  so  urged  by  me, 
before,  and  objected  on  such  grounds  ?  I  turned  and  took 
her  bridle. 

"  You  were  thinking  of  Vespasia,"  I  said.  "  /was  not. 
I  never  cared  for  the  woman,  but  for  her  influences.  Her 
East  is  far  beyond,  moreover  ;  swarthier  skies  are  there, 
and  its  shores  are  laved  by  more  southern  seas.  It  is 
unlikely  that  we  shall  meet.  Yet  fancy,  Eos !  if  we 
should,  how  splendid  the  picture  :  white  dromedaries,  and 
red  saddle-cloths,  and  the  face  of  Vespasia,  from  her  airy 
throne,  flashing  by  us  in  the  wilderness.  So  the  Enchant 
ress  Queen  Labe  might  journey  from  the  secret  Nile 
Source  to  the  city  of  great  Magiana ! " 

Eos  touched  her  little  mountain  pony  with  the  switch, 
and  then  bent  her  head  as  she  subdued  his  curvetting. 
That  was  not  effected  at  once,  and  we  proceeded  home  in 
silence. 

Swift  and  deft  beyond  all  other  women,  she  completed 
our  preparations  in  season  for  the  next  steamer ;  and 
suddenly,  one  day,  all  my  dreams  were  accomplished,  for 
we  touched  the  shores  of  Africa. 

We  remained,  during  the  winter,  for  purposes  of  re 
search  and  acclimation,  within  the  precincts  of  the  old 
historic  town  —  alien  and  fantastic  —  that  received  us.  I 
wished,  also,  to  take  the  plains  in  their  utmost  ardor ; 
meanwhile,  I  was  not  idle.  With  the  spring,  we  obtained 
a  convoy  and  began  our  Arab  life.  When  my  foot 


DESERT  SANDS.  203 

touched  the  stirrup,  when  my  horse  first  bounded  beneath 
my  heel,  when  some  city  —  whose  strange,  sweet  name 
savored  of  dates,  and  palm-wine,  and  4  lucent  syrops  tinct 
with  cinnamon '  —  veiled  itself  behind  us,  and  leagues 
and  leagues  away  and  around  spread  the  glimmering 
sheets,  when  I  beheld  that  deep  line  of  perpetual  flight 
whose  profound  color  amassed  that  of  so  many  horizons, 
when  for  the  first  time  I  found  the  life  I  had  sought,  — 
the  bivouac,  the  siesta,  the  journeying  by  early  stars,  — 
far  from  experiencing  the  exhilaration  I  had  foreseen,  I 
felt  myself  utterly  satisfied  and  at  rest.  But,  in  truth,  so 
far  from  rest,  the  state  in  which  I  was  resembled  that 
swift  revolution  of  bodies  where  they  appear  to  be 
motionless :  it  was  the  very  acme  of  unrest  Nothing 
surprised  me  in  all  that  was  so  new;  my  very  array 
occasioned  me  no  hinderance,  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  never 
worn  another,  picturesque  and  varied  in  all  gay  shades, 
effeminate  and  light  as  wrappings  of  air ;  accustomed  to 
and  demanding  luxury,  the  simplicity  of  this  life  became 
at  once  mine,  the  primitive  manners  charmed  me,  the 
coarse  fare  contented  me.  In  the  night,  the  Arabs 
circled  round  the  dying  fire  made  groups  where  chiaro- 
oscuro  could  do  no  more ;  in  the  day  we  crossed  the  track 
of  some  kindred  party,  or  exchanged  salutes  with  a 
parcel  of  French  chasseurs,  or  encountered  the  great 
half-yearly  caravan,  defiling  straight  along  the  pathless 
waste,  resplendent  in  arms,  gorgeous  in  color,  fluttering 
in  fringe  and  scarf  and  banner,  and  snatching  the  breath 
from  the  lips  with  its  clamor,  and  swiftness,  and  grace. 
Sometimes  many  successive  halts  were  made  near  wells 
of  fresh  sweet  water,  or  at  other  times  the  provision, 
tepid  and  rank,  carried  in  the  skins,  sufficed  us  for  days  ; 
to  me,  even  this  was  almost  welcome,  and  joyfully  remem- 


204  DESERT   SANDS. 

bered  as  a  portion  of  the  wild  delight  of  the  life.  Eos, 
pillowed  and  canopied  aloft  on  her  mattress,  uttered  no 
complaint  when  perishing  of  thirst,  never  murmured  at 
the  heat  or  the  jolting  gait  of  her  camel ;  she  retreated  far 
ther  under  her  coverings,  and  when  the  cry  ran  along  the 
line,  leaned  forth  feebly  in  the  hot  quiet  to  draw  strength 
from  the  yet  distant  oasis  whose  palm-plume  was  cut  upon 
the  azure  like  a  gem.  Later,  with  the  softness,  the  sudden 
nights  that  fell  without  twilight,  the  stars  that  hung  great 
and  glowing  from  their  vaults  of  crystalline  darkness,  in 
the  gloom,  the  coolness,  the  shelter  of  tamarisk-thicket 
and  breath  of  rose-laurel,  she  became  refreshed  and 
enlivened,  and  appeared,  once  more,  airy  and  light-hearted 
as  when  in  youth.  How  should  I  have  known  that  in 
that  dreadful  sun,  those  scorching  winds,  she  suffered  so  ? 
She  never  told  me,  and  my  own  keen  enjoyment  flushed 
me  too  fully  to  allow  perception  of  any  pain  in  the  world. 
Thus  we  journeyed.  We  halted  in  strange  cities  of 
the  desert,  till  then  unguessed ;  we  took  up  our  march 
again  from  ruins  over  which  the  restless  sand  had  blown 
for  centuries  ;  all  the  way  began  to  assume  a  new  aspect, 
vague,  unnatural,  almost  demoniacal.  As  we  went,  the 
great  monumental  camels,  lost  from  wandering  tribes, 
strange  sad  beasts  that  seem  the  relics  of  some  primeval 
era,  came  and  surveyed  us,  standing  gaunt  and  stolid  and 
stony  and  starved  between  us  and  the  sky ;  the  little  sala 
manders  twisted  and  slipped  among  the  burning  sands  ; 
hot  exhalations  rose  and  maddened  the  animals  ;  the  si 
rocco  played  fearful  fantasies  in  our  brains  ;  the  flying 
lines,  the  alluring  distances,  buried  themselves  in  mock 
ing  mirage,  the  watercourses  became  dry,  the  sun 
withered  the  eye  that  looked  abroad,  the  summer  heats 
beset  us. 


DESERT  SANDS.  205 

Our  guides,  who  regarded  everything  as  a  matter  of 
course,  sought  shelter  and  sleep.  Eos,  every  limb  flaccid, 
every  nerve  unstrung,  drooped  weaker  and  fainter,  with 
no  word,  at  last,  even  for  me,  —  with  imperceptible  breath, 
and  nothing  but  a  fluttering  pulse  to  tell  the  life  within 
her.  When  the  night  came,  all  retook  courage.  As  for 
me,  I  did  not  need  it :  I  was  in  a  state  of  inexhaustible 
well-being,  I  was  bathed  in  the  lustre  of  these  overflow 
ing  heavens,  I  drank  the  divine  melancholy  of  infinite 
distance,  I  was  penetrated  with  warmth  and  satiated 
with  light. 

One  day,  just  before  the  noon  halt,  there  suddenly  rose 
upon  our  vision  a  small  caravan,  rose  from  no  one  knew 
where,  since  in  the  desert,  owing  perhaps  to  space,  such 
sights*  come  and  go  like  ephemera.  It  consisted  of  a 
pack-camel  whose  driver  urged  it  along  at  intervals  with 
a  peculiarly  shrill  song,  and  following,  an  Arab  horseman, 
the  trappings  of  purple  and  burnished  silver  glowing  in 
the  sun,  and  a  dun-colored  dromedary.  From  a  seat  of 
sumptuous  cushions  high  embossed  on  the  latter,  a  figure, 
all  in  white,  bent,  lifted  aside  its  veil,  and  a  face,  golden 
in  the  noonlight,  and  with  the  sinister  contrast  of  emerald 
eyes,  flashed  upon  me.  It  was  the  face  of  Vespasia. 
The  whole  passed  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  became  lost  in  the 
depths  of  the  desert.  Shortly  afterward,  we  paused,  and 
the  little  bivouac  slept  silent  in  siesta.  While  they  rested, 
I  had  been  sketching,  for  I  allowed  nothing  to  escape  me, 
neither- the  hooded  viper  with  his  angry  hue,  in  the  patch 
of  grass,  nor  the  scorpion  writhing  from  sight,  nor  an 
ostrich  flying  before  the  wind  of  his  speed  with  all  his 
plumes  spread  and  dancing.  At  last  I  entered  the  tent 
and  lay  down.  For  a  moment  I  pressed  my  hand  upon 
my  eyes,  a  sudden  darkness,  edged  with  splendor,  fol- 


206  DESERT  SANDS. 

lowed,  then  shooting  gleams  and  rings  and  fiery  spires. 
I  opened  them  in  the  soft  demi-shade  of  the  tent ;  the 
light  was  intolerable.  I  was  alarmed. 

"  Eos,"  I  said,  "  I  can  scarcely  see,  I  am  dazzled. 
We  must  remain  encamped  here  till  I  recover  ;  it  would 
not  be  pleasant  to  be  left  in  the  dark,  you  know,"  and  I 
laughed  as  I  spoke. 

Eos  lifted  her  languid  head,  put  back  the  hair,  brought 
her  dressing-case  nearer  after  an  effort,  and  wetting  a 
handkerchief  in  some  cool -ointment  there,  crept  toward 
me  and  bound  it  about  my  eyes.  Then  she  drew  my 
head  upon  her  bosom,  and  I  fell  asleep.  When  I  awoke, 
it  was  with  a  sharp  exclamation  and  then  a  laugh.  My 
difficulty  had  vanished  with  rest.  I  saw  Eos  near  the 
lifted  hangings,  and  Alain  bending  over  me.  He  had 
been  with  us  in  the  winter,  and  had  counted  upon  meet 
ing  us  frequently  during  our  travel.  He  was  out  with 
skirmishers,  in  pursuit  of  fragments  of  certain  rebellious 
tribes.  They  lingered  and  took  the  evening  meal  with  us. 

Alain  was  no  longer  genial ;  on  the  contrary,  as  sar 
donic  as  I  had  ever  at  any  time  seen  him,  and  now  and 
then  giving  way  to  a  biting  sentence.  At  length  his 
companions  gave  notice  of  departure.  Alain  rose  and 
bade  Eos  good-night ;  I  stepped  outside  with  him. 

"  You  are  at  your  old  tricks  again ! "  said  he  abruptly, 
as  we  stood  alone  a  moment.  I  did  not  understand  him. 
"  Eos  is  dying  now  in  good  earnest." 

I  was  startled,  and  then  remembered  his  habit.  "  Eos 
experiences  lassitude  from  the  heat,"  I  replied,  "  nothing 
more.  I  have  nearly  finished  my  studies ;  we  shall 
return,  and  all  will  be  well." 

Slightly  soothed  by  my  calmness,  "  Heaven  grant  it !  " 
said  he.  "  She  is  thinner  than  a  shadow,  in  this  accursed 


DESERT  SANDS.  207 

land  where  there  are  no  shadows !  She  is  transparent.  I 
have  not  seen  such  pallor  in  a  living  countenance.  Her 
eyes  are  more  luminous,  with  the  trace  of  those  great  blue 
half-circles  below  them,  than  these  porcelain  heavens. 
Yes,  she  is  dying,  I  say  !  "  he  continued  with  more  vehe 
mence,  "  not  only  of  heat  and  weariness,  but  of  suppres 
sion  !  This  aptitude,  this  power,  this  whatever  you  choose 
to  call  it,  genius  or  inspiration,  for  which  you  refuse  her 
utterance,  this  has  produced  a  spiritual  asphyxia.  She 
had  better  be  an  Arab  woman  and  live  her  life !  You 
have  killed  her,  but  no  one  can  hang  you  for  it ! "  Before 
I  could  reply,  he  strode  to  his  horse,  mounted,  and  fled 
like  an  arrow  to  rejoin  his  fellows. 

At  the  tent-door  stood  Eos ;  I  took  her  in  my  arms 
and  wandered  up  and  down  the  place,  once  a  green  island 
in  the  sea  of  sand,  now  parched  and  withered.  I  told  her 
of  my  success,  I  talked  of  what  swayed  my  thoughts,  I 
bade  her  have  yet  a  few  days'  patience.  Perhaps  the 
sight  of  Alain  had  reanimated  her,  perhaps  my  unusual 
treatment ;  she  slipped,  at  length,  from  my  grasp  and 
walked  beside  me  and  grew  gay ;  now  she  ran  a  few 
paces  in  advance,  now  came  back  and  hung  over  my 
hand ;  she  sang  broken  tunes,  bits  of  homesick  airs, 
twittering  and  chirping,  as  I  said,  like  a  bird  at  dawn. 

"  Alain  has  teased  you,"  said  she  at  length.  "  He 
thinks  me  ill,  I  know  ;  but  I  am  perfectly  well,  only 
tired.  And  seeing  Alain  was  like  going  home." 

"  We  will  go  soon,  Eos  ;  you  shall  be  there  before  the 
last  harebells  are  faded,  for  what  would  the  year  be  un 
less  I  saw  their  blue  deepen  the  blue  of  your  eyes  ?  The 
grapes  over  your  mother's  arbor  will  just  have  purpled 
to  your  gathering,  —  do  you  remember  once  when  you 
rubbed  the  bloom  off  the  bunches  that  their  skins  might 


208  DESERT   SANDS. 

shine  like  Copts  ?  I  wonder  if  the  honeysuckle  by  the 
south  window  is  dead  yet ;  its  berries  should  be  the  color 
of  chalcedony  by  this  time  ;  your  mother  used  —  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  home ! "  cried  Eos,  bursting  into  a 
sudden  passion  of  tears,  clinging  to  me  and  speaking 
through  her  sobs.  "  Don't  speak  of  home !  Of  those 
days!  It  breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  them!" 

"  Eos ! "  I  said  in  surprise,  "  do  ydU  regret  it  so  un 
happily  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  I  am  not  unhappy  !  I  am  most  blest,  because 
you  love  me  better  than  you  ever  did  before  ;  but  once  in 
a  while  all  that  rises,  and  I  perish  with  longing." 

"  Dear  child,"  I  said,  smoothing  the  fair,  flying  hair 
from  her  forehead,  "  you  shall  go  to-morrow,  if  you  will. 
I  can  easily  find  you  escort,  and  then  remain  till  my  work 
is  done,  without  you." 

"  Could  you  ?  "  asked  Eos,  drying  her  tears.  "  But  I 
could  not ;  where  you  are  is  my  home  always.  I  am 
sorry  I  have  been  so  naughty,  —  a  hindering  little  thing, 
a  weak  and  silly  little  wife  ! " 

We  lingered  in  silence  a  moment,  to  breathe  the  soft 
warm  night,  to  feel  the  gentle  air  sighing  in  the  tamarisks, 
to  see  the  great  jewelry  of  heaven  that  every  night  spread 
its  brilliant  net  above  the  desert,  —  sapphire  and  chryso 
lite  and  ruby  and  beryl.  As  we  went  in,  Eos  pointed 
with  her  white  finger  at  one  star,  just  above  the  horizon, 
red  as  a  drop  of  blood  ready  to  fall. 

Early,  under  the  awfully  white  sheen  of  a  desert  moon, 
the  tents  were  struck,  and  we  were  on  our  way  again. 
There  was  all  the  awakening  cheer  of  the  morning,  —  the 
neighing  horses,  protesting  camels,  the  stir  of  equipage, 
tintinnabulation  of  bells,  and  cries  of  Arabs.  The  heav 
ens  bleached,  a  stain  like  that  from  some  ruddy  and  enor- 


DESERT  SANDS.  209 

mous  blossom  dyed  the  east,  the  shadows  lengthened,  rosy 
light  welled  up  and  filled  the  great  hollow  of  the  sky ; 
there  were  no  clouds,  no  pomp,  nothing  but  intense  lustre 
and  overpowering  heat. 

I  had  gradually  fallen  behind  the  others,  as  here  and 
there  appeared  subjects  for  my  pencil,  and  had  lost  them 
entirely  from  view,  since  I  liked  much  to  find  myself  so 
unimpeded  and  utterly  alone,  trusting  the  instinct  of  my 
horse  to  recover  the  train  on  occasion.  Nothing  could 
equal  the  profound  hush  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  vast  extent 
of  stillness  swallowed  every  noise  into  itself,  as  the  sea 
closes  over  dross. 

While  this  thought  passed  through  my  mind,  my  horse 
suddenly  pricked  his  ears  and  quivered  under  my  hand, 
throwing  back  his  head  with  swollen  nostril  and  clustered 
veins,  and  rolling  a  fiery  eyeball  about ;  he  appeared  to 
listen  intently,  standing  crisp-maned,  and  with  the  stif 
fened  muscular  action  of  a  bronze.  In  a  moment,  I  heard 
a  long  low  note  winding  from  the  right  —  a  signal  of 
alarm.  I  touched  him  with  the  spur,  folded  my  imple 
ments  as  we  went,  and  galloped  in  its  direction. 

The  train  had  already  ceased  progress,  and  had  en 
circled  the  women  in  a  hollow  square.  Sheik  Ibrahim, 
meeting  me,  assured  me  that  there  were  indisputable 
signs  of  an  enemy,  that  he  had  suspected  it  for  two  or 
three  days,  but  judged  that  the  presence  of  the  French, 
within  such  short  distance,  would  be  a  sufficient  safe 
guard,  and  therefore  had  said  nothing.  I  remonstrated 
with  him  on  his  posture  of  defence,  urging  that  it  invited 
attack.  He  replied  it  was  well  known  that  bands  hostile 
to  his  own  tribe  patrolled  the  desert,  and  it  was  singular 
we  had  already  met  none  of  sufficient  force  to  assail  us, 
and  that  I  should  soon  see  if  his  precautions  were  vain. 


210  DESERT  SANDS. 

Far  from  terror,  I  found  Eos  exhilarated  and  trembling 
with  excitement ;  her  hand  lay  in  mine  like  ice,  and  her 
eyes  were  fixed  on  a  distant  and  increasing  point.  My 
glance  followed  hers,  and  before  long  I  could  plainly  de 
tect  the  glitter  of  spear-heads,  the  flash  of  sunshine  on 
mounted  weapons,  floating  pennons,  and  a  mingled  splen 
dor  of  color,  while  a  strangely  discordant  yet  thrilling 
music  announced  no  peaceful  errand.  Our  horsemen 
pranced  up  and  down  the  line,  their  eyes  sparkling,  their 
scarfs  streaming,  with  difficulty  restraining  themselves 
from  hurling  a  shower  of  spears  at  their  assailants. 

An  hour's  waiting,  and  they  were  near  enough  to  ex 
change  defiance  ;  a  lance  leaped  out  and  fell  at  my  feet ; 
then,  without  a  word's  warning,  a  volley  of  musketry,  and 
the  impetuous  charge.  For  a  moment,  all  thought  of 
defence  abandoned  me,  as  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of 
the  melee,  with  its  great,  leaping  steeds,  its  tossing  kaf 
tans,  its  purple  and  scarlet  and  gold,  its  irate  motion  and 
gesture  and  shrilling  trumpet-peals,  its  flaming  eyes,  and 
the  one  lithe  figure  that  flashed  to  and  fro,  mercurial  and 
savage,  among  the  swords,  ever  insinuating  nearer,  —  in 
the  next,  a  blind  instinct  seized  me,  and  the  warlike  fury. 

I  do  not  know  how  the  little  battle  fell ;  our  enemy 
exceeded  us  thrice  ;  I  can  easily  imagine  that  their  cer 
tainty  of  victory  already  dashed  us  with  defeat.  I  shook 
a  hand  from  my  shoulder,  felt  it  again,  turned  and  saw 
Eos,  who  had  slipped  from  her  nest,  grasping  a  rusty  old 
yataghan,  and  replete  with  spirit. 

"Alain!"  she  cried,  "Alain!" 

And  deliverance,  with  the  French  tirailleurs,  was  upon 
us.  The  hostile  party  swerved,  broke  precipitately  and 
fled  ;  the  lithe  figure,  which  I  had  remarked  before,  alone 
wheeled  back  upon  us  in  a  wide  detour,  poised  suddenly 


DESERT  SANDS.  211 

in  its  career,  and  leaning  on  one  stirrup  from  the  saddle, 
dashed  aside  white  burnous  and  violet  turban-scarf,  and, 
under  the  meteor  of  the  uplifted  sword-blade,  I  caught 
again  that  sinister  dazzle  of  blazing  leopard  eyes.  I  had 
but  time  to  fling  Eos  behind  me  when  the  blow  descended 
and  sheared  a  portion  of  her  dress.  As  instantly  the 
balance  was  restored,  and  the  figure  swept  on,  but  not 
before  I  saw  the  long  gleam  of  a  tirailleur's  polished  bar 
rel  raised  in  the  sun,  and  swiftly  as  it  fled  a  swifter  foe 
fled  after.  I  shut  my  eyes,  but  I  must  have  felt  the 
bound,  the  reel,  the  headlong  plunge,  the  dragging  stirrup, 
till  a  second  shot  felled  the  horse  with  its  rider. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alain,  a  little  later,  when  he  joined  us, 
"  the  very  tribe  we  hunt !  Well  routed,  too." 

"  Among  them,  effendi,"  said  Ibrahim,  "  was  an  adven 
turess,  who  certainly  purchased  their  favor  with  immense 
treasure.  Their  defeat  is  no  less  than  a  miracle  of  God, 
a  blow  for  charging  in  mad  noon  at  command  of  a 
woman !  Dogs,  and  sons  of  dogs  !  God  willed  it ;  she 
lies  there  dead !  " 

Tender  to  the  friend,  inexorable  to  th^  enemy,  with  the 
one  savage  trait  of  his  nature,  Alain  extended  his  hand 
to  Eos. 

"  You  can  set  your  heel  upon  her  head !  "  he  said. 

Eos  flung  him  a  glance  like  the  blue  light  shed  from 
the  swallow's  wing,  and  clung  unreasonably  to  me. 

I  wonder  now  why  she  loved  me,  why,  rather,  she  did 
not  hate  me !  I  had  occasioned  her  only  distress,  I  gave 
her  no  joy,  no  rest.  Too  sure  it  is  that  human  attractions 
and  repulsions  are  as  invisible  as  potent. 

This  affair  in  nowise  hurried  our  movements  ;  we  felt, 
henceforth,  much  safer,  like  those  who  have  suffered  a 


212  DESERT  SANDS. 

contagious  illness  to  be  suffered  but  once.  I  lingered 
farther  from  the  camp,  prolonged  our  stages,  wrought  up 
the  hints  afforded  me,  tried  my  effects  in  the  face  of  what 
they  sought  to  accomplish,  imbibed  the  warmth  and  ra 
diance  like  a  fruit  of  the  tropics,  and  felt  myself  con 
stantly  more  affluent.  But  while  I  made  such  revelry  of 
every  day,  to  Eos  they  brought  torture  ;  the  reaction  from 
the  enthusiasm  and  shocks  of  the  fray  prostrated  her,  the 
heats  still  wrung  away  her  vitality,  the  very  sands  be 
came  loathsome  in  her  eyes ;  lifted  from  one  arm  to 
another,  she  had  that  horror  of  touching  them  with  her 
foot  that  one  has  of  treading  on  a  grave  ;  she  seemed  to 
fear,  perpetually,  the  sight  of  those  jewel-eyes,  that  trail 
ing  viscous  length,  those  splendid  dyes,  sliding  among  the 
golden  grains,  —  frequently  she  seemed  fascinated  and 
forced  to  seek  for  them ;  the  skirmish  was  every  night 
re-enacted  in  her  dreams ;  she  woke  with  the  curve  of  the 
descending  weapon  and  the  glare  of  that  envenomed  gaze 
before  her  face,  her  sleep  was  a  shivering  nightmare,  — 
finally,  she  ceased  to  sleep  at  all.  But  all  these  things  I 
never  thought  of  then,  —  blinder  than  now.  And  so  my 
slow  murder  was  accomplishing. 

At  length  the  summer  was  over,  the  term  of  Sheik 
Ibrahim's  service  expired,  I  turned  my  back  upon  the 
desert,  —  not  forever,  as  I  hoped,  —  bade  farewell  to  these 
fierce  rays  that  had  ravished  me  from  myself,  to  this  feast 
of  lustre,  to  these  long  lines  that  shared  the  grandeur  of 
infinity ;  I  awoke  from  my  debauch  of  light,  I  left  the 
great  solace  of  sun  and  solitude  and  space  and  silence.  I 
threaded  again  the  dark,  narrow  bazaars,  and  again,  with 
Eos,  found  myself  on  level  calms  of  blue  water;  and 
thus,  as  it  were,  by  gentle  gradations  came  back  to  my 
old  life. 


DESERT  SANDS.  213 

At  sea,  Eos  lay  upon  the  deck,  placid  and  peaceful,  yet 
motionless ;  but  people  were  always  sick  at  sea,  I  said. 
Once  at  home,  and  reinstated  in  our  old  ways,  I  looked 
for  her  recovery,  and  looked  in  vain ;  it  became  necessary 
to  regard  her  as  a  confirmed  invalid.  That  is  the  case 
with  all  American  women,  I  said.  I  found  her  attend 
ance,  then  missed  her  unfailing  services  that  I  had  never 
recognized,  and  wondered  if  I  could  not  anticipate  my  own 
wants.  She  lay,  during  the  greater  portion  of  the  day,  on 
a  couch  at  the  lower  window  of  the  room  where  I  painted, 
and  now  I  worked  with  a  will  and  energy  I  had  never 
known  before.  I  rose  at  daybreak  to  contemplate  my 
progress ;  I  scarcely  allowed  myself  time  for  my  daily 
food ;  I  took  no  recreation :  it  was  recreation  enough,  it 
was  complete  joy,  thus  to  reproduce  the  only  summer,  I 
declared,  in  which  I  had  ever  lived.  I  combined,  and 
eliminated,  and  heightened,  there  was  no  strength  possible 
to  my  palette  which  I  difl  not  demand,  I  exhausted  the 
secrets  of  my  art,  my  eyes  grew  heated  with  fixed  labor, 
my  breath,  itself,  paused  on  my  lips.  Eos,  as  intent  as  I, 
watched  its  growth  with  a  fever  in  her  cheek,  and,  in  her 
feeble  way,  grew  blithe  at  any  powerful  success.  She 
used  to  follow  me  with  her  glance ;  now  and  then,  yet 
seldom,  she  beckoned  me  to  leave  all  and  kiss  her,  she 
was  so  weak  that  she  scarcely  ever  attempted  to  walk ; 
except  to  carry  her  from  room  to  room,  to  obey  her  rare 
requests,  I  was  too  absorbed  to  be  more  than  remotely 
sensible  of  her  existence.  But  she  —  she  seemed  to  con 
centrate  the  love  of  long  life  into  those  few  months.  Once, 
when  my  sight  was  fatigued,  I  sat  and  shaded  it  with  my 
hand  ;  she  thought  me  confused  in  color,  and  remembered 
her  old  remedy,  rose,  reached  the  piano,  and  slowly  un 
wound  a  chain  of  clear,  fine  chords,  a  rill  of  melody  steal- 


214  DESERT  SANDS. 

ing  through  them  to  be  lost  in  closing  chords  finer  and 
sweeter,  the  rich  sediment  that  had  remained  in  her  mem 
ory  from  some  imposing  Mass.  The  sound,  so  unusual 
now,  startled  me. 

"  Eos  ! "  I  exclaimed,  "  what  has  happened  ?  Are  you 
well  ?  " 

"  You  know  the  wick  flashes  up  when  the  flame  is  ex 
tinguished,  if  the  day  is  to  be  fine  to-morrow,"  she  said, 
and  laughed. 

Then  her  face  grew  still,  her  eye  wistful,  she  staggered 
and  fell,  and  I  bore  her  to  the  couch  again. 

So  the  winter  skimmed  away,  it  grew  to  be  late  in  the 
spring,  and  I  could  look  forward  to  the  completion  of  my 
work.  I  did  not  think,  then,  of  its  pompous  parade,  its 
triumphal  march  from  town  to  town,  of  its  throng  of  lovers, 
of  its  world-wide  fame ;  I  saw  and  felt  only  its  beauty, 
and  needed  no  other  recompense.  There  lay  the  desert 
before  me  again,  its  one  moment  of  dawn,  when  the  sands 
blanched,  the  skies  blenched,  and  the  opposite  quarter 
dreamed  of  rosy  suffusion  to  cast  it  again  yet  more  faintly 
on  the  white  dromedary  and  the  white-wrapped  Arab 
beside  him.  They,  and  their  long  pallid  shadows  falling 
from  the  east,  alone  taught  me  the  ineffable  solitude  and 
hush ;  beyond  them,  I  found  again  the  lengthening  lines, 
the  hints  of  fuller  light,  slow  and  fine  detail,  desert  com 
pressed  within  desert,  space  and  immensity  daringly  shut 
on  a  canvas.  There  was  the  sparkle  of  the  sterile  stretch, 
the  wide  air  emptied  of  its  torrid  stings,  the  eternal  calm 
and  peace  —  the  melancholy  for  one,  the  rapture  for  an 
other.  There  was  the  soul  of  summer  shed,  older  and 
more  mysterious  and  sadder  than  the  sea,  fresh  made  with 
.every  morn  in  vigor  and  hope,  —  the  work  was  worth  its 
price ! 


DESERT  SANDS.  215 

One  day  I  waited  merely  for  the  artisans  with  the  frame. 
I  went  gayly  and  sat  down  on  Eos's  couch.  I  took  her  in 
my  arms,  —  she  was  lighter  than  any  child,  —  laid  her 
head  on  my  shoulder,  and  talked  to  her  a  few  moments 
of  my  hopes  and  certainties.  Then  we  were  silent.  She 
lifted  her  hand  and  placed  it  on  my  forehead. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  love  me  as  you  do,"  she  said. 
"  Other  love  might  regard  me  as  a  separate  thing,  seek 
my  ease  or  pleasure  aside,  but  you  have  made  and  felt  me 
a  part  of  yourself.  I  am  glad,  darling,  and  I  thank  God 
for  you ! " 

She  lifted  her  still  beautiful  head  and  pressed  her  lips 
to  mine,  long,  fervently,  and  as  if  she  wished  I  should 
drink  the  last  drops  of  her  life,  —  then  sank  back. 

I  heard  the  men  on  the  stairs.  I  dropped  her  among 
her  cushions,  drew  the  screen,  and  admitted  them.  That 
was  soon  done.  Then  there  were  a  few  touches  yet 
to  be  given,  some  delicate  strokes,  a  shadow  to  deepen, 
a  light  to  intensify,  and  the  radiant  thing  stood  perfect 
before  me. 

"  Eos,  my  work  is  ended !  "  I  cried.  "  There  is  nothing 
more  to  do  !  " 

I  stepped  back ;  I  scanned  it  intently ;  I  turned,  bewil 
dered  ;  and,  at  a  sharp  sting,  drew  my  fingers  down  my 
lids.  At  the  touch,  a  spear,  as  of  some  Northern  Light, 
leapt  across  my  vision,  then  murk  darkness,  and  creeping 
over  that,  my  picture,  the  sands  of  the  desert,  forever  and 
forever  slretched  before  my  eyes. 

"  Who  has  drawn  the  shades  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Have  I 
worked  till  night  ?  Eos,  are  you  here  ?  " 

I  moved  forward,  the  bell  from  a  neighboring  church- 
tower  struck  the  hour  of  noon,  my  hand  passed  through 


216 


DESEKT   SANDS. 


the  open  window  and  clutched  empty  air,  groped  back 
again  and  lay  on  features  bathed  in  vapid  chill. 

Truly,  there  was  nothing  more  to  do,  —  in  all  my  life 
long,  nothing  more  to  do !  Night  had  fallen  at  noon.  I 
was  blind,  and  Eos  was  dead. 


MIDSUMMER    AND    MAY. 


10 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 


i. 


ROBABLY  you  never  saw  such  a  superb 
creature,  —  if  that  word,  creature,  does  not 
endow  her  with  too  much  life :  a  Semiramis, 
without  the  profligacy,  —  an  Isis,  without  the 
worship,  —  a  Sphinx,  yes,  a  Sphinx,  with  her  desert,  who 
long  ago  despaired  of  having  one  come  to  read  her  riddle, 
strong,  calm,  patient  perhaps.  In  this  respect  she  seemed 
to  own  no  redundant  life,  just  enough  to  eke  along  exist 
ence,  —  not  living,  but  waiting. 

I  say,  all  this  would  have  been  one's  impression ;  and 
one's  impression  would  have  been  incorrect. 

I  really  cannot  state  her  age ;  and  having  attained  to 
years  of  discretion,  it  is  not  of  such  consequence  as  it  is 
often  supposed  to  be,  whether  one  be  twenty  or  sixty. 
You  would  have  been  confident,  that,  living  to  count  her 
hundreds,  she  would  only  have  bloomed  with  more  im 
mortal  freshness ;  but  such  a  thought  would  not  have  oc 
curred  to  you  at  all,  if  you  had  not  already  felt  that  she 
was  no  longer  young,  —  she  possessed  so  perfectly  that 
certain  self-reliance,  self-understanding,  aplomb,  into  which 
little  folk  crystallize  at  an  early  age,  but  which  is  not  to 
be  found  with  those  whose  identities  are  cast  in  a  larger 


220  MIDSUMMEK  AND  MAY. 

mould,  until  they  have  passed  through  periods  of  fuller 
experience. 

That  Mrs.  Laudersdale  was  the  technical  magnificent 
woman,  I  need  not  reiterate.  I  wish  I  knew  some  name 
gorgeous  enough  in  sound  and  association  for  that  given 
her  at  christening;  but  I  don't.  It  is  my  opinion  that 
she  was  born  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  that  her  coral-and-bell 
was  marked  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  and  that  her  name  stands 
golden-lettered  on  the  recording  angel's  leaf  simply  as 
Mrs.  Laudersdale.  It  is  naturally  to  be  inferred,  then, 
that  there  was  a  Mr.  Laudersdale.  There  was.  But 
not  by  any  means  a  person  of  consequence,  you  assume  ? 
Why,  yes,  of  some,  —  to  one  individual  at  least.  Mrs. 
Laudersdale  was  so  weak  as  to  regard  him  with  compla 
cency  ;  she  loved  —  adored  her  husband.  Let  me  have 
the  justice  to  say  that  no  one  suspected  her  of  it.  Of 
course,  then,  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh  had  no  business  to  fall  in 
love  with  her. 

Well,  — but  he  did. 

At  the  time  when  Mrs.  Laudersdale  had  become  some 
what  more  than  a  reigning  beauty,  and  held  her  sceptre 
with  such  apparent  indifference  that  she  seemed  about 
abandoning  it  forever,  she  no  longer  dazzled  with  unven- 
tured  combinations  of  colors  and  materials  in  dress.  She 
wore  most  frequently,  at  this  epoch,  black  velvet  that  sup 
pled  about  her  well-asserted  contours  ;  and  the  very  trail 
of  her  skirt  was  unlike  another  woman's,  for  it  coiled  and 
bristled  after  her  with  a  life  and  motion  of  its  own,  like  a 
serpent.  Her  hair,  of  too  dead  a  black  for  gloss  or  glis 
ter,  was  always  adorned  with  a  nasturtium-vine,  whose 
vivid  flames  seemed  like  some  personal  emanation,  and 
whose  odor,  acrid  and  single,  dispersed  a  character  about 
her ;  and  the  only  ornaments  she  condescended  to  assume 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  221 

were  of  Etruscan  gold,  severely  simple  in  design,  elabo 
rately  intricate  in  workmanship.  It  is  evident  she  was  a 
poet  in  costume,  and  had  at  last  en  regie  acquired  a  man 
ner.  But  thirteen  years  ago  she  apparelled  herself  other 
wise,  and  thirteen  years  ago  it  was  that  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh 
fell  in  love  with  her.  This  is  how  it  was. 

Among  the  many  lakes  in  New  Hampshire,  there  is  one 
of  extreme  beauty,  —  a  broad,  shadowy  water,  some  nine 
miles  in  length,  with  steep,  thickly  wooded  banks,  and 
here  and  there,  as  if  moored  on  its  calm  surface,  an  island 
fit  for  the  Bower  of  Bliss.  At  one  spot  along  its  shore 
was,  and  still  is,  an  old  country-house,  formerly  used  as  a 
hotel,  but  whose  patrons,  always  pleasure-seekers  from  the 
neighboring  towns,  had  been  drawn  away  by  the  erection 
of  a  more  modern  and  satisfactory  place  of  entertainment 
at  the  other  extremity  of  the  lake,  and  it  had  now  been 
for  many  years  closed.  There  were  no  dwellings  of  any 
kind  in  its  vicinity,  so  that  it  reigned  over  a  solitude  of  a 
half-dozen  miles  in  every  direction.  Once  in  a  while  the 
gay  visitors  in  the  more  prosperous  regions  stretched  their 
sails  and  skimmed  along  till  they  saw  its  white  porticos 
and  piazzas  gleaming  faintly  up  among  the  trees ;  once 
in  a  while  a  belated  traveller  tied  his  horse  at  the  gate, 
and  sought  admittance  in  vain,  at  the  empty  house,  of  the 
shadows  who  may  have  kept  it.  It  was  not  pleasant  to 
see  so  goodly  a  mansion  falling  to  ruin  for  want  of  fit  oc 
cupancy,  truly ;  and  just  as  the  walls  had  grown  gray  with 
rain  and  time,  the  chimneys  choked  and  the  casements 
shrunken,  a  merry  company  of  friends  and  families,  from 
another  portion  of  the  country,  consolidated  themselves 
into  a  society  for  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  rented  the  old 
place,  put  in  carpenters  and  masons  and  glaziers,  and, 
when  the  last  tenants  vacated  the  premises,  took  posses- 


222  MIDSUMMEE  AND  MAY. 

sion  in  state  themselves.  Care  and  responsibility  were 
not  theirs;  the  matron  and  her  servants  alone  received 
such  guests;  the  long  summer-days  were  to  come  and 
go  with  them  as  joyously  as  with  Bacchus  and  his 
crew. 

Behold  the  party  domesticated  a  fortnight  at  the  Bawn, 
as  it  was  afterward  dubbed.  Mr.  Laudersdale  had  re 
turned  to  New  York  that  morning,  and  his  wife  had  not 
been  met  since.  Now,  at  about  five  o'clock,  her  white 
robe  floated  past  the  door,  and  she  was  seen  moving  up 
and  down  the  long  piazza  and  humming  a  faint  little  tune 
to  herself.  Just  then  a  flock  of  young  women,  married 
and  single,  fluttered  through  door  and  windows  to  join 
her ;  and  just  then  Mrs.  Laudersdale  stepped  down  from 
the  end  of  the  piazza,  and  floated  up  the  garden-path  and 
into  the  woods  that  skirted  the  lake-shore  and  stretched 
far  back  and  away.  Thus  abandoned,  the  others  turned 
their  attention  to  the  expanse  before  and  below  them ;  and 
one  or  two  made  their  way  down  to  the  brink,  unhooked  a 
boat,  ventured  in,  and,  lifting  the  single  pair  of  oars,  were 
soon  laboring  gayly  out  and  creating  havoc  on  the  placid 
waters. 

As  Mrs.  Laudersdale  continued  to  walk,  the  path  which 
she  followed  slowly  descended  to  the  pebbly  rim,  rich  in 
open  spaces,  slopes  of  verdure  just  gilding  in  the  declin 
ing  sun,  and  coverts  of  cool,  deep  shadow.  As  she  ad 
vanced  leisurely,  involved  in  pleasant  fancy,  something 
caught  her  eye,  an  unusual  object,  certainly,  lying  in  a 
duskier  recess ;  she  drew  nearer  and  hung  a  moment 
above  it.  Some  fallen  statue  among  rank  Roman  growth, 
some  marble  semblance  of  a  young  god,  overlaced  with  a 
vine  and  plunged  in  tall  ferns  and  beaded  grasses  ?  And 
she,  bending  there,  —  was  it  Diana  and  Endymion  over 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  223 

again,  Psyche  and  Eros  ?  Ah,  no  !  —  simply  Mrs.  Laud- 
ersdale  and  Roger  Raleigh.  Only  while  one  might  have 
counted  sixty  did  she  linger  to  take  the  real  beauty  of  the 
scene :  the  youth,  adopted  as  it  were,  to  Nature's  heart 
by  the  clustering  growth  that  sprang  up  rebounding  under 
the  careless  weight  that  crushed  it ;  an  attitude  of  com 
plete  and  unconscious  grace,  —  one  arm  thrown  out  be 
neath  the  head,  the  other  listlessly  fallen  down  his  side, 
while  the  hand  still  detained  the  straw  hat ;  the  profile, 
by  no  means  classic,  but  in  strong  relief,  the  dark  hair 
blowing  in  the  gentle  wind,  the  flush  of  sleep  that  went 
and  came  almost  perceptibly  with  the  breath,  and  the 
sunbeam  that  slanting  round  suddenly  suffused  the  whole. 
"Pretty  boy!"  thought  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  Beautiful 
picture ! "  and  she  flitted  on.  But  Roger  Raleigh  was 
not  a  boy,  although  sleep,  that  gives  back,  to  all,  stray 
glimpses  of  their  primal  nature,  endowed  him  peculiarly 
with  a  look  of  childlike  innocence  unknown  to  his  waking 
hours. 

Startled,  perhaps,  by  the  intruding  step,  for  it  was  no 
light  one,  a  squirrel  leaped  from  the  bough  to  the  grass, 
and,  leaping,  woke  the  sleeper.  He  himself  now  unper- 
ceived,  saw  a  vision  in  return,  —  this  woman,  young  and 
rare,  this  queenly,  perfect  thing,  floating  on  and  vanishing 
among  the  trees.  Whence  had  she  come,  and  who  was 
she  ?  And  hereupon  he  remembered  the  old  Bawn  and 
its  occupants.  Had  she  seen  him  ?  Unlikely ;  but  yet, 
unimportant  as  it  was,  it  remained  an  interesting  and 
open  question  in  his  mind.  Bringing  down  the  hair  so 
ruffled  in  the  idle  breeze,  he  crowded  his  hat  over  it  with 
a  determined  air,  half  ran,  half  tumbled,  down  the  bank, 
sprang  into  his  boat,  and,  shaking  out  a  sail,  went  flirting 
over  the  lake  as  fast  as  the  wind  could  carry  him.  Leav- 


224  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

ing  a  long,  straight,  shining  wake  behind  him,  Mr.  Roger 
Raleigh  skimmed  along  the  skin  of  ripples,  and,  in  order 
to  avoid  a  sound  of  shrill  voices,  skirted  the  angle  of  an 
island,  and  found  himself  deceived  by  the  echo  and  in  the 
midst  of  them. 

Mrs.  McLean,  Miss  Helen  Heath,  and  Miss  Mary 
Purcell,  who  had  embarked  with  a  single  pair  of  oars, 
were  now  shipwrecked  on  the  waters  wide,  as  Helen 
said ;  for  one  of  their  means  of  progress,  she  declared, 
had  been  snatched  by  the  roaring  waves  and  was  floating 
in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  just  beyond  their  reach.  None 
of  the  number  being  acquainted  with  the  process  of  scull 
ing,  they  considered  it  imperative  to  secure  the  truant 
tool,  unless  they  wished  to  perish  floating  about  unseen ; 
and  having  weighed  the  expediency  of  rigging  Helen  into 
a  jury-mast,  they  were  now  using  their  endeavors  to  re 
gain  the  oar,  —  Mary  Purcell  whirling  them  about  like  a 
maelstrom  with  the  remaining  one,  and  Mrs.  McLean 
with  her  two  hands  grasping  Helen's  garments,  while  the 
latter  half  stood  in  the  boat  and  half  lay  recumbent  on  the 
lake,  tipping,  slipping,  dipping,  till  her  head  resembled  a 
mermaid's ;  while  they  all  three  filled  the  air  with  more 
exclaim,  shrieking,  and  laughter  than  could  have  been 
effected  by  a  large-lunged  mob. 

"  Bedlam  let  loose,"  thought  the  intruder,  "  or  all  the 
Naiads  up  for  a  frolic  ?  "  And  as  he  shot  by,  a  hush  fell 
upon  the  noisy  group,  —  Helen  pausing  and  erecting  her 
self  from  her  ablutions,  Mary's  frantic  efforts  sending  them 
as  a  broadside  upon  the  Arrow  and  nearly  capsizing  it,  and 
Mrs.  McLean,  ceasing  merriment,  staring  from  both  her 
eyes,  and  saying  nothing.  Mr.  Raleigh  seized  the  oar  in 
passing,  and  directly  afterward  had  placed  it  in  Helen's 
hands.  Receiving  it  with  a  profusion  of  thanks,  she 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  225 

seated  herself  and  bent  to  its  use.  But,  looking  back  in 
a  few  seconds,  Mr.  Raleigh  observed  that  the  exhausted 
rowers  had  made  scarcely  a  yard's  distance.  He  had  no 
inclination  for  gallantry,  his  eyes  and  thoughts  were  full 
of  his  late  vision  in  the  woods,  he  wished  to  reach  home 
and  dream ;  but  in  a  moment  he  was  again  beside  them, 
had  taken  their  painter  with  a  bow  and  an  easy  sentence, 
but  neither  with  empressement  nor  heightened  color,  and, 
changing  his  course,  was  lending  them  a  portion  of  the 
Arrow's  swiftness  in  flight  towards  the  Bawn.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  old  place  sent  its  ghosts  out  to  him  this  afternoon. 
Bearing  close  upon  the  flat  landing-rock,  and  hooking  the 
painter  therein,  he  sheered  off,  lifting  Ms  hat,  and  was 
gone. 

"  Roger !  Roger  Raleigh  ! "  cried  Mrs.  McLean,  from 
the  shore,  "  come  back  ! " 

Obeying  her  with  an  air  of  puzzled  surprise,  the  per 
son  so  unceremoniously  addressed  was  immediately  beside 
her  again. 

"  A  cool  proceeding,  sir  ! "  said  she,  extending  both  her 
hands.  "  How  long  would  you  know  your  Cousin  Kate 
to  be  here,  and  refuse  to  spare  her  an  hour  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  said  her  cousin,  bending  very  low 
over  the  hands,  "  I  but  this  moment  learn  her  presence 
in  my  neighborhood." 

"  Ah,  sir !  and  what  becomes  of  my  note  sealed  with 
sky-blue  wax  and  despatched  to  you  ten  days  ago  ?  " 

"  It  is  true  such  a  note  lies  on  my  table  at  this  mo 
ment,  and  it  is  still  sealed  with  sky-blue  wax." 

"  And  still  unread  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  force  me  to  confess  such  delinquency  ?  " 

"And  still  unread?" 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons  !  Shall  I  go  home  and  read 
10*  o 


226  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

it  ?  "  And  herewith  the  saucy  indifference  of  his  face  be 
came  evident,  as  he  raised  it. 

"  No.  But  is  that  the  way  to  serve  a  lady's  communi 
cations  ?  Fie,  for  a  gallant !  I  must  take  you  in  hand. 
These  are  your  New  Hampshire  customs?" 

" '  O  Kate,  nice  customs  curtsy  to  nice  kings  ! ' " 

"  So  I  Ve  heard,  when  curtsying  was  in  fashion  ;  but 
that  is  out  of  date,  together  with  a  good  many  other  nice 
things,  —  caring  for  one's  friends,  for  instance.  Why 
don't  you  ask  how  all  your  uncles  and  aunts  are,  sir  ?  " 

"  How  are  all  my  uncles  and  aunts,  Miss  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  know  ?  I  thought  you  did  n't.  There  's 
another  billet,  enclosing  a  bit  of  pasteboard,  lying  on  your 
table  now  unopened  too,  I'll  warrant.  Don't  you  read 
any  of  your  letters  ?  " 

"  Alphabetical  or  epistolary  ?  " 

"  Answer  properly,  yes  or  no." 

"No."' 

"Why?" 

"  I  know  no  one  that  has  authority  to  write  to  me,  as 
half  a  reason." 

"  Thank  you,  for  one,  sir.  And  what  becomes  of  your 
Uncle  Reuben?" 

"  Not  included  in  the  category." 

"  Then  you  're  not  aware  that  I  've  changed  my  estate  ? 
You  don't  know  my  name  now,  do  you  ?" 

"  '  Bonny  Kate,  and  sometimes  Kate  the  curst, 
But  Kate,  the  prettiest  Kate  in  Christendom.'  " 

"  Nonsense !  What  an  exasperating  boy !  Just  the 
same  as  ever !  Well,  it  explains  itself.  Here  comes  a 
recent  property  unto  me  appertaining.  McLean  !  My 
husband,  Mr.  John  McLean,  —  my  cousin,  Mr.  Roger 
Raleigh." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  227 

The  new-comer  was  one  of  those  "  sterling  men  "  al 
ways  to  be  relied  on,  generally  to  be  respected,  and  safely 
and  appropriately  leading '  society  and  subscription-lists. 
He  was  not  very  imaginative,  and  he  understood  at  a 
glance  as  much  of  the  other  as  he  ever  would  understand. 
And  the  other,  feeling  instantly  that  only  coin  of  the 
king's  stamp  would  pass  current  here,  turned  his  own 
counter  royal  side  up,  and  met  his  host  with  genuine 
cordiality.  Shortly  afterward,  Mrs.  McLean  withdrew 
for  an  improvement  in  her  toilet,  and  soon  returning, 
found  them  comparing  notes  as  to  the  condition  of  the 
country,  tender  bonds  of  the  Union,  and  relative  merits 
of  rival  candidates,  for  all  which  neither  of  them  cared  a 
straw. 

"  How  do  you  find  me,  sir  ?  "  she  asked  of  her  cousin. 

"  Radiant,  rosy,  and  rarely  arrayed." 

"  I  see  that  your  affections  are  to  be  won,  and  I  pro 
ceed  accordingly,  by  making  myself  charming,  in  the  first 
place.  And  now,  will  you  be  cheered,  but  not  inebriated, 
here  under  the  trees,  in  company  with  dainty  cheese-cakes 
compounded  by  these  hands,  and  jelly  of  Helen  Heath's 
moulding,  and  automatic  trifles  that  caught  an  ordaining 
glimpse  of  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  eye  and  rushed  madly  to 
gether  to  become  almond-pasty  ?  " 

"  With  a  method  in  their  madness,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,  all  the  almonds  not  on  one  side." 

"  In  company  with  cheese-cakes,  jelly,  and  pasty,  sim 
ply,  —  I  should  have  claret  and  crackers  at  home,  Capua 
willing.  Will  it  pay  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  Port  here,  when  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
conies." 

"  Not  old  enough  to  be  crusty  yet,  Kate,"  said  her  hus 
band. 


228  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Very  good,  for  you,  John  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Laudersdale  is  your  housekeeper  ?  "  asked  her 
cousin. 

"Mrs.  Laudersdale?  That  is  rich!  But  I  should 
never  dare  to  tell  her.  Our  housekeeper?  Our  cyno 
sure  !  She  is  our  argent-lidded  Persian  Girl,  —  our  se 
rene,  imperial  Eleanore ;  — 

'  Whene'er  she  moves, 
The  Samian  Here  rises,  and  she  speaks 
A  Memnon  smitten  with  the  morning  sun.'  " 

"  Oh,  indeed !  And  this  is  a  conventicle  of  young  mat 
rimonial  victims  to  practise  cookery  in  seclusion,  upon 
which  I  have  blundered  ?  " 

"  If  the  fancy  pleases  you,  yes.     There  they  are." 

And  hereon  followed  a  series  of  necessary  introductions. 

Mr.  Roger  Raleigh  sat  with  both  arms  leaning  on  the 
table  before  him,  and  wondering  which  of  the  ladies,  half 
whose  names  he  had  not  heard,  was  the  Samian  Here,  — 

if  any  of  them  were,  —  and  if, —  and  if, and  here  Mr. 

Roger  Raleigh's  reflections  went  wandering  back  to  the 
lake-side  path  and  its  vision.  Not  inopportunely  at  this 
moment,  a  white  garment,  which,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say, 
he  had  long  ago  seen  advancing,  fluttered  down  the  oppo 
site  path,  and  she  herself  approached. 

"  Ah  !  Al  fresco  ?  "  said  the  pleasantest  voice  in  the 
world. 

"  And  is  n't  it  charming  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  McLean.  "  Im 
agine  us  with  tables  spread  outside  the  door  in  Fifth  Av 
enue,  in  Chestnut  Street,  or  on  the  Common !  " 

"  Even  then  the  arabesque  would  be  wanting,"  said 
she,  trailing  a  long  branch  of  the  wild  grape-vine,  with 
its  pale  and  delicately  fragrant  blooms,  along  the  snowy 
board.  "  Are  the  cheese-cakes  a  success,  Mrs.  McLean  ? 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  229 

I  did  n't  dine,  and  am  famished.  —  I  see  that  you  have 
at  last  heard  from  your  cousin,"  she  added,  in  an  under 
tone. 

"  Yes ;  let  me  pre  —  Roger ! " 

Quickly  frustrating  any  such  presentation,  Mr.  Roger 
Raleigh  half  turned,  and,  bowing,  said,  — 

"  I  believe  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mrs. 
Laudersdale  before." 

Her  haughtiness  would  have  frozen  any  one  else.  She 
bent  with  the  least  possible  inclination,  and  sat  down  upon 
a  stump  that  immediately  became  a  throne.  He  resumed 
his  former  position,  and  drummed  lightly  on  the  table, 
while  waiting  to  be  served.  In  less  complete  repose  than 
she  had  previously  seen  him,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  now  ex 
amined  anew  the  individual  before  her. 

Not  by  any  means  tall  she  found  him,  but  having  the 
square  shoulders  and  broad  chest  which  give,  in  so  much 
greater  a  degree  than  mere  height,  an  impression  of 
strength,  —  a  frame  agile  and  compact,  with  that  easy 
carriage  of  the  head  and  that  rapid  movement  so  de 
ceptively  increasing  the  stature.  The  face,  too,  was 
probably  what,  if  not  informed  by  a  singularly  clean 
and  fine  soul,  would,  in  the  lapse  of  years,  become 
gross, —  the  skin  of  a  clear  olive,  which  had  slightly 
flushed  as  he  addressed  herself,  but  not  when  speaking 
to  other  strangers,  —  kept  beardless,  and  rather  square  in 
contour;  the  mouth  not  small,  but  keenly  cut,  like  marble, 
and  always  quivering  before  he  spoke,  as  if  the  lightning 
of  his  thought  ran  thither  naturally  to  seek  spontaneous 
expression ;  teeth  white ;  chin  cleft ;  nose  of  the  unclas 
sified  order,  rather  long,  the  curve  opposite  to  aquiline, 
and  saved  from  sharpness  by  nostrils  that  dilated  with  a 
pulse  of  their  own,  as  those  of  very  proud  and  sensitive 


230  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

people  are  apt  to  do ;  a  wide,  low  forehead  crowned  with 
dark  hair,  long  and  fine;  heavy  brows  that  overhung 
deep-set  eyes  of  lightest  hazel,  but  endowed  by  shadow 
with  a  power  that  no  eye  of  gypsy-black  ever  swayed  for 
an  instant.  His  whole  countenance  reminded  you  of 
nothing  so  much  as  of  the  young  heroes  of  the  French 
Revolution,  for  whom  irregular  features  and  sallow  cheeks 
were  transmuted  into  brilliant  and  singular  beauty.  It 
wore  an  inwrapped  air,  and,  with  all  its  mobility,  was  a 
mask.  He  very  seldom  raised  the  lids,  and  his  pallor, 
though  owning  more  of  the  golden  touch  of  the  sun,  was 
as  dazzling  as  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  own. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  scarcely  observed,  —  she  felt ;  and 
probably  she  saw  nothing  but  the  general  impression  of 
what  I  have  been  telling  you. 

"  Tea,  Roger  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  McLean. 

"  Green,  I  thank  you,  and  strong." 

Rising  to  receive  it,  he  continued  lu's  course  till  it  nat 
urally  brought  him  before  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  Pausing 
deliberately  and  sipping  the  pungent  tonic,  he  at  last 
looked  up,  and  said, — 

"  Well,  you  are  offended  ?  " 

"  Then  you  were  awake  when  I  stayed  to  look  at  you  ?  " 
she  asked,  in  reply ;  for  curiosity  is  a  solvent. 

"  Then  you  did  stay  and  look  at  me  ?  That  is  exactly 
what  I  wished  to  know.  How  did  I  look,  Belphosbe  ?  " 

"  Out  of  his  eyes,  tell  him,"  said  Helen  Heath,  in 
passing. 

"  They  were  not  open,"  responded  Mrs.  Laudersdale. 
"  And  I  cannot  tell  how  you  saw  me." 

"  I  saw  you  as  Virgil  saw  his  mother,  —  I  mean  ^Eneas, 
—  as  the  goddesses  are  always  known,  you  remember,  in 
departure." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  231 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  felt  a  weight  on  her  lids  beneath  his 
glance,  and  rose  to  approach  the  table. 

"Allow  me,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  taking  her  plate  and 
bringing  it  back  directly  with  a  wafery  slice  of  bread  and 
a  quaking  tumulus  of  fragrant  jelly. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  laughed,  though  perhaps  scarcely 
pleased  with  him. 

"  How  did  you  know  my  tastes  so  well  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Since  they  are  not  mine,"  he  replied.  "  Of  course 
you  eat  jelly,  because  it  is  no  trouble ;  you  choose  your 
bread  thin  for  the  same  reason ;  likewise  you  would  find 
a  glass  of  that  suave,  rich  cream  delicious.  Among  all 
motions,  you  prefer  smooth  sailing ;  and  I  '11  venture  to 
say  that  you  sleep  in  down  all  summer." 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  looked  up  in  slow  and  still  astonish 
ment ;  but  Mr.  Raleigh  was  already  pouring  out  the  glass 
of  cream. 

"  I  've  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  have  me  sweeten  it," 
said  he,  offering  it  to  her ;  "  but  I  will  not  humor  such  as 
cetic  tendencies.  I  never  approved  of  flagellation." 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  was  gone  to  break  ground  for  a 
flirtation  with  Helen  Heath. 

Helen  Heath  appeared  to  be  one  of  those  gay,  not-to- 
be-heart-broken  damsels  who  can  drink  forever  of  this 
dangerous  and  exhilarating  cup  without  showing  symp 
toms  of  intoxication.  Young  men  who  have  nothing 
worse  to  do  with  their  time  gravitate  naturally  and  un 
awares  toward  them  for  amusement,  and  spin  out  the 
thread  till  they  reach  its  end  without  expectation,  without 
surprise,  without  regret,  without  occasion  for  remorse. 
Mr.  Raleigh  could  not  have  been  more  unfortunate  than 
he  was  in  meeting  her,  since  it  gave  him  reason  and  ex 
cuse  henceforth  for  visiting  the  Bawn  at  all  seasons. 


232  MIDSUMMER  AND   MAY. 

The  table  was  at  last  -removed,  the  dew  began  to  fall, 
Mrs.  Laudersdale  shivered  and  withdrew  toward  the 
house. 

"  Incessu patet  dea"  Mr.  Raleigh  remembered. 

Somewhat  later,  he  started  from  his  seat,  bade  them  all 
good-night,  ran  gayly  down  the  bank,  and  shoved  off  from 
shore.  And  shortly  after,  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  looking  from 
her  window,  saw,  for  an  instant,  a  single  firefly  hovering 
over  the  dark  lake.  It  was  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh's  distant 
lantern,  as,  stretched  at  ease,  he  turned  the  slow  leaves  of 
a  Froissart,  and  suffered  the  Arrow  to  drift  as  it  would 
across  the  night. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Laudersdale  descended,  as 
usual,  to  the  breakfast-table,  at  an  hour  when  all  the  rest 
had  concluded  their  repast.  Miss  Helen  Heath  alone 
remained,  trifling  with  the  tea-cups,  and  singing  little 
exercises. 

"  Quite  an  acquisition,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  !  "  said  she. 

"What?"  said  the  other,  languidly,  leaning  one  arm 
on  the  table  and  looking  about  for  any  appetizing  edible. 
"  What  is  an  acquisition  ?  " 

"  You  mean  who.  Mr.  Raleigh,  of  course.  But  is  n't 
it  the  queerest  thing  in  the  world,  up  here  in  this  savage 
district,  to  light  upon  a  gentleman?" 

"Is  this  a  savage  district?  And  is  Mr.  Raleigh  a 
gentleman  ?  " 

"  Is  he  ?    I  never  saw  his  match." 

«  Nor  I." 

"  What !  don't  you  find  him  so  ?  a  thorough  gentle 
man  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  a  thorough  gentleman  is,  I  dare 
say,"  assented  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  indifferently,  with  no 
spirit  for  repartee,  breaking  an  egg  and  putting  it  down, 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  233 

crumbling  a  roll,  and  finally  attacking  a  biscuit  but 
gradually  raising  the  siege,  yawning,  and  leaning  back  in 
her  chair. 

"  You  poor  thing ! "  said  Helen.  "  You  are  starving 
to  death.  What  shall  I  get  for  you  ?  I  have  influence  in 
the  kitchens.  Does  marmalade,  to  spread  your  muffins, 
present  any  attractions  ?  or  shall  I  beg  for  rusks  ?  or 
what  do  you  say  to  doughnuts  ?  there  are  doughnuts  in 
this  closet ;  crullers  and  milk  are  nice  for  breakfast." 

And  in  a  few  minutes  Helen  had  rifled  a  shelf  of  suffi 
cient  temptations  to  overcome  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  absti 
nence. 

"  After  all,"  said  she  then,  "  you  did  n't  answer  my 
question." 

"What  question?" 

"  If  it  were  n't  odd  to  meet  Mr.  Raleigh  here." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale. 

"  Dear !  Mary  Purcell  takes  as  much  interest.  She 
said  he  was  impertinent,  made  her  talk  too  much,  and 
made  fun  of  her." 

"  Very  likely." 

"  You  are  as  aggravating  as  he !  If  you  had  anything 
to  do  except  to  look  divinely,  we  'd  quarrel.  I  thought  I 
had  a  nice  bit  of  entertaining  news  for  you." 

"  Is  that  your  trouble  ?  I  should  be  sorry  to  oppress 
you  with  it  longer.  Pray,  tell  it." 

"  Will  it  entertain  you  ?  " 

"  It  won't  bore  you" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  will  tell  it  on  such  terms.  How 
ever,  I  —  must  talk.  Well,  then.  I  have  not  been 
dreaming  by  daylight,  but  up  and  improving  my  oppor 
tunities.  Partly  from  himself,  and  partly  from  Kate,  and 
partly  from  the  matron  here,  I  have  made  the  following 


234  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

discoveries.  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh  has  left  some  very  gay 
cities,  and  crossed  some  parallels  of  latitude,  to  exile  him 
self  in  this  wilderness  of  ice  and  snow,  —  that 's  what  you 
and  I  vote  it,  whether  the  trees  are  green  and  the  sun 
shines,  or  not ;  and  I  don't  see  what  bewitched  mother  to 
adopt  such  a  suicidal  plan  as  coming  here  to  be  buried 
alive.  He,  that  is,  Mr.  Raleigh,  to  join  my  ends,  has 
lived  here  for  five  years ;  and  as  he  came  when  he  was 
twenty,  he  is  consequently  about  my  age  now,  —  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  a  trifle  older  than  you.  He  came 
here  because  an  immense  estate  was  bequeathed  him  on 
the  condition  that  he  should  occupy  this  corner  of  it 
during  one  half  of  every  year  from  his  twenty-first  to  his 
thirty-first.  He  has  chosen  to  occupy  it  during  the  entire 
year,  running  down  now  and  then  to  have  a  little  music 
or  see  a  little  painting.  Sometimes  a  parcel  of  his 
friends,  —  he  never  was  at  college,  has  n't  any  chums,  and 
has  educated  himself  by  all  manner  of  out-of-the-way 
dodges,  —  sometimes  these  friends,  odd  specimens,  old 
music-masters,  rambling  artists,  seedy  tutors,  fencers, 
boxers,  hunters,  clowns,  all  light  down  together,  and  then 
the  neighborhood  rings  with  this  precious  covey  ;  the  rest 
of  the  year,  may-be,  he  don't  see  an  individual.  One 
result  of  this  isolation  is,  that  freaks  which  would  be  very 
strange  escapades  in  other  people  with  him  are  mere 
commonplaces.  Sometimes  he  goes  over  to  the  city 
there,  and  roams  round  like  a  lost  soul  seeking  for  its 
body ;  sometimes  he  goes  up  a  hundred  miles  or  two, 
takes  a  guide  and  handles  the  mountains  ;  and,  except  in 
the  accidents  at  such  times,  he  has  n't  seen  a  woman  since 
he  came." 

"  That  accounts,"  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale. 

"  Yes.     But  just  think  what  a  life ! " 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  235 

« He  would  n't  stay,  if  he  did  n't  like,"  replied  Mrs. 
Laudersdale,  to  whom  the  words  poverty  and  riches  con 
veyed  not  the  least  idea. 

"  I  don't  know.  He  has  an  uncle,  of  whom  he  is  very 
fond,  in  India,"  continued  Helen,  —  "  an  unfortunate  kind 
of  man,  with  whom  everything  goes  wrong,  and  who  is 
always  taking  fevers  ;  and  once  or  twice  Mr.  Raleigh  has 
started  to  go  and  take  care  of  him,  and  lose  the  whole 
estate  by  the  means.  He  intends  to  endow  him,  I  believe, 
by  and  by,  after  the  thing  is  at  his  disposal.  This  uncle 
kept  him  at  school,  when  he  was  an  orphan  in  different 
circumstances,  at  a  Jesuit  institution  ;  and  he  and  Miss 
Kent  were  always  quarrelling  over  him,  and  she  thought 
she  had  tied  up  her  property  nicely  out  of  old  Reuben 
Raleigh's  way.  It  will  be  nuts,  if  he  ever  accepts  his 
nephew's  proposed  present.  The  best  of  it  all  is,  that,  if 
he  breaks  the  condition,  —  there 's  no  accounting  for  the 
caprices  of  wills,  —  part  of  it  goes  to  a  needy  institution, 
and  part  of  it  inalienably  to  Mrs.  McLean,  who  —  " 

"  Is  an  institution,  too." 

"  Who  is  not  needy.  There,  is  n't  that  a  pretty  little 
conte  ?  " 

"  Very,"  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  having  listened  with 
increasing  interest.  "  But,  Helen,  you  '11  be  a  gossip,  if 
you  go  on  and  prosper." 

"  Why,  my  dear  child !  He  '11  be  over  here  every  day, 
now  ;  and  do  you  suppose  I  'm  going  to  flirt  with  any 
one,  when  I  don't  know  his  antecedents  ?  There  he  is 
now ! " 

And  as  Mrs.  Laudersdale  turned,  she  saw  Mr.  Raleigh 
standing  composedly  in  the  doorway  and  surveying  them. 
She  bade  him  good-morning,  coolly  enough,  while  Helen 
began  searching  the  grounds  of  the  teacups,  rather  un- 


236  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

certain  how  much  of  her  recital  might  have  met  his 
ears. 

"  Turning  teacups,  Gypsy  Helen,  and  telling  fates,  all 
to  no  audience,  and  with  no  cross  on  your  palm  ?  "  asked 
the  guest. 

"  So  you  ignore  Mrs.  Laudersdale  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  you  were  n't  looking  at  her  cup,  —  if  she 
has  one.  Will  you  have  the  morning  paper  ?  "  he  asked 
of  that  lady,  who,  receiving  it,  leisurely  unfolded  and 
glanced  over  its  extent. 

"  Where 's  my  Cousin  Kate  ?  "  then  demanded  Mr. 
Raleigh  of  Helen,  having  regarded  this  performance. 

"  Gone  shopping  in  town." 

"  Her  vocation.     For  the  day  ?  " 

"No,  —  it  is  time  for  their  return  now.  When  you 
hear  wheels  —  " 

"  I  hear  them  " ;  and  he  strolled  to  the  window.  "  You 
should  have  said,  when  I  heard  tongues;  Medes  and 
Elamites  and  the  dwellers  in  Mesopotamia  were  less 
cheerful.  A  very  pretty  team.  So  she  took  her  conjugal 
appurtenance  with  her  ?  " 

"  And  left  her  cousinly  impertinence  behind  her,"  re 
torted  a  gay  voice  from  his  elbow. 

"  Ah,  Kate  !  are  you  there  ?  It 's  not  a  moment  since 
I  saw  you  'coming  from  the  town.'  A  pretty  hostess, 
you  !  I  arrive  on  your  invitation  to  pass  the  day  — " 

"  But  I  did  n't  expect  you  before  the  sun." 

"  To  pass  the  day,  and  find  you  absent  and  the  break 
fast-table  not  cleared  away." 

"  My  dear  Roger,  we  have  not  quite  taken  our  habits 
yet.  As  soon  as  the  country  air  shall  have  wakened  and 
made  over  Helen  and  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  you  will  find  us 
ready  for  company  at  daybreak." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  237 

"  What  a  passion  for  (  company  ' !  I  shall  not  be  sur 
prised  some  day  to  receive  cards  for  your  death-bed." 

"  Friends  and  relatives  invited  to  attend  ?  No,  Roger, 
you  must  n't  be  naughty.  You  shall  receive  cards  for  my 
dinner-party  before  we  go,  if  you  won't  come  without ;  for 
we  have  innumerable  friends  in  town  already." 

"  Happy  woman  !  " 

"  What 's  that  ?  A  newspaper?  A  newspaper !  How 
McLean  will  chuckle ! "  And  she  seized  the  sheet  which 
Mrs.  Laudersdale  had  abandoned  in  sweeping  from  the 
room. 

"  Is  there  a  Mr.  Laudersdale  ?  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Raleigh,  as  he  leaned  against  the  window. 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  his  cousin,  deep  in  a  paragraph. 

"  Mr.  Laudersdale.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  between  his  four  planks,  I  suppose,"  she  replied, 
thinking  of  the  Sound-boat's  berth,  which  probably  con 
tained  the  gentleman  designated. 

"  Between  his  four  planks,"  repeated  Mr.  Raleigh,  in  a 
musing  tone,  something  shocked  by  her  apparent  levity, 
entirely  misinterpreting  her,  and  to  this  little  accident 
owing  nearly  thirteen  years'  unhappiness. 

"  She  must  have  married  early,"  he  continued. 

"  Oh,  fabulously  early,"  replied  Mrs.  McLean,  between 
the  lines  she  read.  "  She  is  Creole,  I  believe.  She  is 
perfect.  The  women  are  as  infatuated  about  her  as  the 
men.  Here  's  Helen  Heath  been  dawdling  round  the 
table  all  the  morning  for  the  sake  of  chatting  to  her 
while  she  breakfasts.  I  don't  know  why,  I  'm  sure ;  the 
woman 's  charming,  but  she  's  too  lazy  even  to  talk. 
McLean!  Another  flurry  in  France." 

And  after  shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Raleigh,  that  worthy 
seized  the  proffered  paper  and  vanished  behind  it,  leaving 


238  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

to  his  wife  the  entertainment  of  her  cousin,  which  duty 
she  seemed  by  no  means  in  haste  to  assume,  preferring  to 
remain  and  vex  her  husband  with  a  thousand  little  teasing 

O 

arts.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Raleigh  proceeded  to  take  that  of 
fice  upon  himself,  by  crossing  the  hall,  exploring  the  par 
lors,  examining  the  manuscript  commonplace-volumes,  and 
finally  by  sketching  on  a  leaf  of  his  pocket-book  Mrs. 
Laudersdale,  at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza,  half-swinging 
in  the  vines  through  which  broad  sunbeams  poured,  while 
Helen  Heath  was  singing  and  several  other  ladies  were 
busying  themselves  with  books  and  needlework  in  her 
vicinity. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Raleigh  ! "  said  Helen  Heath,  as  he  put  up 
the  pocket-book  and  drew  near,  —  "  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
and  I  have  been  wondering  how  you  amuse  yourself 
up  here ;  and  I  make  my  discovery.  You  study  ani 
mated  nature ;  that  is  to  say,  you  draw  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
and  me." 

"  Mistaken,  Miss  Helen.  I  draw  only  Mrs.  Lauders 
dale  ;  and  do  you  call  that  animated  nature  ?  " 

" I  wish  you  would  draw  Mrs.  Laudersdale  out" 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Laudersdale  fell  out ;  but,  without 
otherwise  stirring  from  his  position  than  by  moving  an 
apparently  careless  arm,  Mr.  Raleigh  caught  and  restored 
her  to  her  balance,  as  lightly  as  if  he  had  brushed  a  float 
ing  gossamer  from  the  air  to  his  finger.  For  the  first 
time,  perhaps,  in  her  life,  a  carnation  blossomed  an  instant 
in  her  cheek,  then  all  was  as  before,  —  only  two  of  the 
party  felt  on  that  instant  that  in  some  mysterious  manner 
their  relations  with  each  other  were  entirely  changed. 

"  But  what  is  it  thati  you  do  with  yourself  ?  "  persisted 
Helen.  "  Tell  us,  that  we  may  do  likewise." 

"  Will  you  come  and  see  ?  "  he  asked,  —  his  eyes,  how- 


MIDSUMMEE  AND  MAY.  239 

ever,  on  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  "Will  you  come  in  away 
from  the  lake  to  the  brooks,  and  hang  among  the  alders, 
and  angle,  dreaming,  all  day  long  ?  Or  will  you  rise  at 
dead  of  night  and  go  out  on  the  lake  with  me  and  watch 
field  after  field  of  white  lilies  flash  open  as  the  sun  touches 
them  with  his  spear  ?  Or  will  you  lie  during  still  noons 
up  among  the  farmers'  fields  where  myriad  bandrol  corn- 
poppies  flaunt  over  your  head,  and  stain  your  finger-tips 
with  the  red  berries  that  hang  like  globes  of  light  in  the 
palace-gardens  of  mites  and  midges,  soaking  yourself  in 
hot  sunshine  and  south-winds  and  heavy  aromatic  earth- 
scents  ?  " 

"  Come ! "  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  rising  earnestly,  like 
one  in  an  eager  dream. 

"  It  is  plain  that  you  are  in  training  for  a  poet,"  said 
Helen  Heath,  laughing,  to  Mr.  Raleigh.  "Well,  when 
will  you  take  us  ?  Are  the  lilies  in  bloom  ?  Shall  we  go 
to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  take  you  at  all,  Miss  Helen ; 
—  river-lilies  might  suit  you  best ;  but  these  queens  of 
the  lakes,  the  great,  calm  pond-lilies,  creatures  of  quiet 
and  white  radiance,  —  I  have  seen  only  one  head  that 
possessed  enough  of  the  genuine  East-Indian  repose  to  be 
crowned  with  them." 

"  You  like  repose,"  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  "  But  what 
is  it  ?  " 

"  Repose  is  strength,  —  life  that  develops  from  within, 
and  feels  itself,  and  has  no  need  of  effort.  Repose  is 
inherent  security." 

"Goodness!"  exclaimed  Helen.  "Article  first  in  a 
new  dictionary,  —  encyclopaedia,  I  should  say.  You  wor 
ship,  but  you  don't  possess  your  god,  for  you  look  at  this 
moment  like  a  shaft  in  the  bow ;  and  here  comes  an 
archer  to  give  it  flight." 


240  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Kate  ?  "  said  her  cousin. 

"  To  pick  strawberries  in  the  garden.    Want  to  come  ?  " 

The  three  could  do  no  better  than  accept  her  invitation. 
The  good  ladies  might  stare  as  they  could  after  Mrs.  Lau- 
dersdale,  and  wonder  what  sudden  sprite  had  possessed 
her,  since  for  neither  man  nor  woman  of  the  numerous 
party  had  she  hitherto  condescended  to  lift  an  unwonted 
eyelid;  what  they  would  have  said  to  have  seen  her 
plunged  in  a  strawberry-bed,  gathering  handfuls  and  rain 
ing  them  drop  by  drop  into  Helen  Heath's  mouth,  to  si 
lence  her  while  she  herself  might  talk,  —  her  own  fingers 
tipped  with  more  sanguine  shade  than  their  native  rose, 
her  eyes  full  of  the  noon  sparkle,  and  her  lips  parted  with 
laughter,  —  we  cannot  say.  Roger  Raleigh  forgot  to 
move,  to  speak,  to  think,  as  he  watched  her.  But  in 
the  midst  of  this  brilliant  and  novel  gayety  of  hers, 
there  was  still  a  dignity  to  make  one  feel  that  she  had 
by  no  means  abandoned  her  regal  purple,  but  merely 
adorned  it  with  profuse  golden  nourishes. 

At  dinner  that  day,  Helen  begged  to  know  if  there 
were  not  a  great  many  routes  in  tne  vicinity  practicable 
only  on  horseback,  and  thought  she  had  attained  her  end 
when  Mr.  Raleigh  put  his  horses  and  his  escort  at  the 
service  of  herself  and  Mrs.  Laudersdale  during  their  stay. 

"  During  our  stay  !  "  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  "  That 
reminds  me  that  we  are  to  go  away  !  " 

"  Pleasantly,  certainly.  When  snows  fall  and  storms 
pipe,  the  Bawn  is  an  ice-house,"  said  he. 

After  noon,  the  remainder  of  the  day  was  interspersed 
with  light  thunder-showers,  rendering  tea  on  the  grass 
again  impossible ;  they  passed  the  steaming  cups,  there 
fore,  as  they  sat  on  the  piazza,  curtained  with  dripping 
woodbine.  The  glitter  of  the  drops  in  the  sunset  light,  a 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  241 

jewelled  scintillation,  was  caught  in  Mrs.  Laudersdale's 
eyes,  and  some  unconscious  excitement  fanned  a  faint 
color  to  and  fro  on  her  cheek.  At  last  the  moon  rose ;  the 
whole  party,  regardless  of  wet  slippers,  sauntered  with 
Mr.  Raleigh  to  the  shore,  where  the  little  Arrow  hung 
balancing  on  her  restraining  cord.  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
stepped  in,  Mr.  Raleigh  followed,  took  up  an  oar,  and 
pushed  out,  both  standing,  and  drifting  slowly  for  a  few 
rods'  distance ;  then  Mr.  Raleigh  made  .the  shore  again, 
assisted  her  out,  and  shot  impatiently  away  alone.  The 
waters  shone  like  white  fire  in  the  wake  he  cut,  great 
shadows  fell  through  them  where  island  and  wood  inter 
cepted  the  broad  ascending  light,  and  Mrs.  Laudersdale's 
gay  laugh  rung  across  them  as  the  space  grew, —  a  sweet, 
rich  laugh,  that  all  the  spirits  of  the  depths  caught  and 
played  with  like  a  rare  beam  that  transiently  illumined 
their  shadowy  silent  haunts. 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  and  so  for  a  fortnight,  Mr. 
Roger  Raleigh  presented  himself  with  the  breakfast-urn 
at  the  Bawn,  tarried  during  sunshine,  slipped  home  by 
starlight  across  the  lake.  Every  day  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
was  more  brilliant,  and  flashed  with  a  cheery  merriment 
like  harmless  summer-lightnings.  One  night,  as  he 
pushed  away  from  the  bank,  he  said, — 

"  Au  revoir  for  five  hours." 

"  For  five  hours  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale. 

"  For  five  hours." 

"  At  half  past  three  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  In  the  morning." 

"  And  what  brings  you  here  at  dead  of  dark  ?  " 

"  The  lilies  and  the  dawn." 

"  Indeed !    And  whom  do  you  expect  to  find  ?  " 

"You  and  Miss  Helen." 

11  p 


242  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Well,  summer  and  freedom  are  here  ;  I  am  ready  for 
all  fates,  all  deeds  of  valor,  vigils  among  the  rest.  We 
will  await  you  at  half  past  three  in  the  morning.  Helen, 
we  must  sleep  at  high-pressure,  soundly,  crowding  all  we 
can  on  the  square  inch  of  time.  Au  revoir" 

A  shadow  stood  on  the  piazza,  in  the  semi-darkness,  at 
the  appointed  hour ;  two  other  shadows  flitted  forward  to 
meet  it,  and  silently  down  the  bank,  into  the  boat,  and  out 
upon  the  lonely  glimmering  reaches  of  the  water.  No 
body  spoke ;  the  midnight  capture  of  no  fort  was  ever 
effected  with  more  phantom-like  noiselessness  than  now 
went  to  surprise  the  Vestals  of  the  Lake ;  only  as  two 
hands  touched  for  an  instant,  a  strange  thrill,  like  fire, 
quivered  through  each  and  tore  them  apart  more  swiftly 
than  two  winds  might  cross  each  other's  course.  Helen 
Heath  was  drowsy  and  half-nodding  in  the  bow,  nodding 
with  the  more  ease  that  it  was  still  so  dark  and  that  Mr. 
Raleigh's  back  was  toward  her.  Mrs.  Laudersdale  re 
clined  in  the  stern.  Mr.  Raleigh  once  in  a  while  sent 
them  far  along  with  a  strong  stroke,  then  only  an  occa 
sional  plash  broke  the  charm  of  perfect  stillness.  Ever 
and  anon  they  passed  under  the  lee  of  some  island,  and 
the  heavy  air  grew  full  of  idle  night-sweetness ;  the 
waning  moon  with  all  its  sad  and  alien  power  hung  low, 
—  dun,  malign,  and  distant,  a  coppery  blotch  on  the  rich 
darkness  of  heaven.  They  floated  slowly,  still ;  now  and 
then  she  dipped  a  hand  into  the  cool  current ;  now  and 
then  he  drew  in  his  oars,  and,  bending  forward,  dipped 
his  hand  with  hers.  The  stars  retreated  in  a  pallid  veil 
that  dimmed  their  beams,  faint  lights  streamed  up  the 
sky,  —  the  dark  yet  clear  and  delicious.  They  paused 
motionless  in  the  shelter  of  a  steep  rock ;  over  them  a 
wild  vine  hung  and  swayed  its  long  wreaths  in  the  water, 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  243 

a  sweet-brier  starred  with  fragrant  sleeping  buds  climbed 
and  twisted,  and  tufts  of  ribbon-grass  fell  forward  and 
streamed  in  the  indolent  ripple ;  beneath  them  the  lake, 
lucid  as  some  dark  crystal,  sheeted  with  olive  transpa 
rence  a  bottom  of  yellow  sand ;  here  a  bream  poised  on 
slowly  waving  fins,  as  if  dreaming  of  motion,  or  a  perch 
flashed  its  red  fin  from  one  hollow  to  another.  The 
shadow  lifted  a  degree,  the  eye  penetrated  to  farther  re 
gions  ;  a  bird  piped  warily,  then  freely,  a  second  and  third 
answered,  a  fourth  took  up  the  tale,  blue-jay  and  thrush, 
cat-bird  and  bobolink ;  wings  began  to  dart  about  them, 
the  world  to  rustle  overhead,  near  and  far  the  dark  prime 
grew  instinct  with  sound,  the  shores  and  heavens  blew 
out  gales  of  melody,  the  air  broke  up  in  music.  He 
lifted  his  oars  silently  ;  she  caught  the  sweet-brier,  and, 
lightly  shaking  it,  a  rain  of  dew-drops  dashed  with  deepest 
perfume  sprinkled  them ;  they  moved  on.  A  thin  mist 
breathed  from  the  lake,  steamed  round  the  boat,  and  lay 
like  a  white  coverlet  upon  the  water  ;  a  light  wind  sprang 
up  and  blew  it  in  long  rags  and  ribbons,  lifted,  and  torn, 
and  streaming,  out  of  sight.  All  the  air  was  pearly,  the 
sky  opaline,  the  water  now  crisply  emblazoned  with  a 
dark  and  splendid  jewelry,  —  the  paved  work  of  a  sap 
phire  ;  a  rosy  fleece  sailed  across  their  heads,  some  fur 
nace  glowed  in  the  east  behind  the  trees,  long  beams  fell 
resplendently  through  and  lay  beside  vast  shadows,  the 
giant  firs  stood  black  and  intense  against  a  red  and  risen 
sun ;  they  trailed  with  one  oar  through  a  pad  of  buds  all- 
unaware  of  change,  stole  from  the  overhanging  thickets 
through  a  high-walled  pass,  where,  on  the  open  lake,  the 
broad,  silent,  yellow  light  crept  from  bloom  to  bloom  and 
awoke  them  with  a  touch.  How  perfectly  they  put  off 
sleep  !  with  what  a  queenly  calm  displayed  their  spotless 


244  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

snow,  their  priceless  gold,  and  shed  abroad  their  matchless 
scent !  He  twined  his  finger  round  a  slippery  serpent- 
stem,  turned  the  crimson  underside  of  the  floating  pavil 
ion,  and  brought  up  a  waxen  wonder  from  its  throne  to 
hang  like  a  star  in  the  black  braids  on  her  temple.  An 
hour's  harvesting  among  the  nymphs,  in  this  rich  at 
mosphere  of  another  world,  and  with  a  loaded  boat  they 
turned  to  shore  again. 

"  Smothered  in  sweets  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Raleigh,  as  he 
sprang  out,  and  woke  Helen  Heath,  where,  slipped  down 
upon  the  floor  of  the  boat,  her  head  fallen  on  her  arms, 
she  had  lain  half  asleep.  They  were  the  first  words 
spoken  during  the  morning,  and  in  such  situations  silence 
is  dangerous. 

When  the  rest  of  the  family  descended  to  breakfast, 
they  found  the  pictures  framed  in  wreaths  of  lilies,  great 
floats  of  them  in  hall  and  parlor,  and  the  table  laden  with 
flat  dishes  where  with  coiled  stems  they  crowded,  a  white, 
magnificent  throng.  Mr.  Raleigh  still  lingered,  and, 
while  Mrs.  Laudersdale  and  Helen  renewed  their  toilets, 
had  busied  himself  in  weaving  a  crown  of  these  and 
another  of  poppy-leaves,  hanging  the  one  on  Mrs.  Lau- 
dersdale's  head,  as  she  entered  refreshed,  snowy,  and  fra 
grant  herself,  and  the  sleep-giving  things  on  Helen's,  — 
the  latter  avenging  herself  by  surveying  her  companion's 
adornment,  and,  as  she  adjusted  the  bloom-gray  leaves  of 
her  own,  inquiring  if  olives  grew  pickled. 

Nothing  could  be  more  airy  and  blithe  than  were  Mrs. 
Lauderdale's  spirits  all  that  morning,  —  bubbles  dancing 
on  a  brook,  nor  foam-sparkle  of  rosy  Champagne.  She 
related  their  adventures  with  graphic  swiftness,  and  im 
provised  dangers  and  escapes  with  such  a  reckless  disre 
gard  of  truth  that  Mr.  Raleigh  was  forced  to  come  to  the 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  245 

rescue  with  more  startling  improbabilities  than  they  would 
have  encountered  in  the  Enchanted  Forest. 

The  red  dawn  brought  its  rain,  and  before  they  rose 
from  table  the  sunshine  withdrew  and  large  drops  began 
to  patter  in  good  earnest.  Mr.  Raleigh,  who  had  gen 
erally  suffered  others  to  entertain  him,  now,  as  Mrs. 
McLean  ushered  the  whole  company  into  the  sewing- 
room,  seemed  spurred  by  gayety  and  brilliance,  and  to 
bring  into  employ  all  those  secrets  through  which  he  had 
ever  annihilated  time.  For  a  while  devoting  himself  to 
the  elder  dames,  he  won  the  heart  of  one  by  a  laborious 
invention  of  a  million  varicolored  angles  to  a  square  bar 
ley-corn  of  worsted-work,  involved  Mrs.  McLean's  cro 
cheting  in  an  inextricable  labyrinth  as  he  endeavored  to 
afford  her  some  requisite  conchological  assistance,  and 
turned  with  three  strokes  a  very  absurd  drawing  of  Mrs. 
Laudersdale's  into  a  splendid  caricature.  Having  made 
himself  thus  generally  useful,  he  now  proceeded  to  make 
himself  generally  agreeable ;  went  with  all  necessary 
gravity  through  a  series  of  complicate  dancing-steps  with 
Miss  Heath ;  begged  Miss  Purcell,  who  was  longing  to 
cry  over  her  novel,  to  allow  him  to  read  for  her,  since  he 
saw  that  she  was  trying  her  eyes,  and  therewith  made 
fiasco  of  a  page  of  delicious  dolor ;  and  being  challenged 
to  chess  by  a  third,  declared  that  was  child's  play,  and 
dominos  was  the  game  for  science,  —  whereon,  having 
seated  a  circle  at  that  absorbing  sport,  he  deserted  for  a 
meerschaum  and  the  gentlemen,  and  in  company  with 
Captain  Purcell,  Mr.  McLean,  and  the  rest,  rolled  up 
from  the  hall,  below,  wreaths' of  smoke,  bursts  of  laughter, 
and  finally  chimes  of  those  concordant  voices  with  which 
gentlemen  talk  politics,  and,  even  when  agreeing  infa 
mously,  become  vociferant  and  high-colored. 


246  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

It  was  after  lunch  that  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  having  grown 
weary  of  the  needle-women's  thread  of  discourse,  left  the 
sewing-room  and  proceeded  toward  her  own  apartment. 
Just  as  she  crossed  the  head  of  the  staircase,  the  hall-door 
was  flung  open,  admitting  a  gleeful  blast  of  the  boisterous 
gale,  and  an  object  that,  puffing  and  blowing  like  a  sad- 
hued  dolphin,  and  shaking  like  a  Newfoundland,  appeared 
at  first  to  be  the  famous  South  West  Wind,  Esq.,  in  proper 
person,  —  whose  once  sumptuous  array  clung  to  his  form, 
and  whose  face  and  hands,  shining  as  coal,  rolled  off  the 
rain  like  a  bronze. 

"  Bless  my  heart,  Capua !  "  cried  Mr.  Raleigh,  remov 
ing  the  stem  from  his  lips ;  "  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  Lors,  Massa,  it 's  only  me,"  said  Capua. 

"  So  I  see,"  replied  his  master,  restoring  the  pipe  to  its 
former  position.  "  How  did  you  come  ?  " 

"'Bout  swimmed,  I  'spect,"  answered  Capua,  ground 
ing  a  chuckle  on  a  reef  of  ivory.  "  'T  a' n't  no  fish-story, 
dat ! " 

"  Well,  what  brings  you  ?  " 

"  Naughty  Nan,  —  she  had  n't  been  out  —  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  you  rascal !  that  you  've  taken 
Nan  out  on  such  a  day  ?  and  round  the  lake,  too,  I  '11 
warrant  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raleigh,  with  some  excitement. 

"  Jes'  dat ;  an'  round  de  lake,  ob  course ;  we  could  n' 
come  acrost." 

"  You  've  ruined  her,  then  —  " 

"  Bress  you,  Massa,  she  won't  ketch  no  cold,  —  she ! 
Smokes  like  a  beaver  now ;  came  like  streak  o'  lightnin'." 

"You  may  as  well  swim  her  back,  —  and  where  we 
can  all  see  the  sport,  too." 

"  But  —  " 

"  No  buts  about  it,  Capua,"  insisted  his  master,  with 
mock  gravity,  the  stem  between  his  teeth. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  247 

"  'Spect  I  'd  better  rub  her  down,  now  I'se  here,  an' 
wait  '11  it  holds  up  a  bit,  Mass*  Roger  ?  "  urged  Capua, 
coaxingly. 

"  Do  as  you  're  bid !  "  ejaculated  his  master ;  which, 
evidently,  from  long  habit,  meant,  Do  as  you  please. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  and  Helen  Heath  had  crept  down  the 
stairs  during  this  dialogue,  and  now  stood  interested  spec 
tators  of  the  scene.  Mrs.  McLean  came  running  down 
behind  them. 

"  Forgotten  me,  Capua  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Lors,  Miss  Kate ! "  he  replied,  scraping  his  foot  and 
pulling  off  his  hat,  —  "  Cap  never  f 'gets  his  friends,  though 
you  've  growed.  How  d'  ye  do,  Miss  Kate  ?  " 

"  Nicely,  thank  you.     And  how  's  your  wife  ?  " 

"  My  wife  ?  Well,  she 's  'bout  beat  out.  Massa  Rog 
er  'n  I,  we  buried  her ;  finer  funeral  dan  Massa  Roger's 
own  mother,  Miss  Kate,  dat  was  ! " 

"  Poor  fellow  !  I  'm  so  sorry  !  "  began  Mrs.  McLean, 
consolingly. 

"  Well,  Miss  Kate,  you  know  some  folks  is  easier  spared 
'n  others.  Some  tongues  sharper  'n  others.  Alwes  liked 
to  gib  a  hot  temper  time  to  cool,  's  Massa  says." 

"  And  how  do  you  do,  Capua  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  Miss  Kate  ;  leastways,  I'se  well  enough, 
—  a'n't  so  pretty." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  whispered  Helen. 

"  'Anhible,  Missis,"  said  the  attentive  Capua,  whose  eyes 
had  been  for  some  time  oscillating  with  indecision  between 
Helen  Heath  and  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  "  Hannibal  Raleigh 
's  my  name  ;  though  Massa  alwes  call  me  Cap,"  he  added, 
insinuatingly,  —  which,  by  the  way,  "  Massa  "  never  had 
been  known  to  do. 

"  And  are  you  always  going  to  stay  and  take  care  of 
Master  Roger  ?  " 


248  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  'Spect  I  shall.  Lors,  Miss  Kate,  he  's  more  bother  to 
me  'n  all  my  work,  —  dat  boy  ! " 

"  That  will  do,  Capua,"  said  his  master ;  "  you  may  go." 
And  therewith  Capua  scuffled  away. 

"  Well,  Roger,  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mc 
Lean,  as  the  door  closed. 

"  It  means  that  Capua,  having  been  dying  of  curiosity, 
has  resolved  to  die  game,  and  therefore  takes  matters  into 
his  own  hands,  and  arrives  to  inspect  my  conduct  and  my 
company." 

"  Ah,  I  see.     He  trembles  for  his  sceptre." 

"  Miss  Heath,"  said  Mr.  McLean,  rallyingly,  "  you  re 
ceived  a  great  many  of  the  sable  shafts." 

"  A  Saint  Sebastiana,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Saint  Sebastian  died  of  his  wounds.  Not  I,"  said 
Helen. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  Miss  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh, 
"  that  Capua  is  a  connoisseur,  and  his  dictum  is  worth 
all  flatteries.  If  he  had  only  been  with  us  this  morning!" 

"  You  have  teased  me  so  much  about  that,  Mr.  Raleigh, 
that  I  have  half  a  mind  never  to  go  with  you  on  another 
expedition." 

"  Make  no  rash  vows.  I  was  just  thinking  what  fine 
company  you  would  be  when  trouting.  The  most  en 
chanting  quiet  is  required  then,  you  are  aware." 

"  Oh  !  when  shall  we  go  trouting  ?  " 

"  We  ?  It  was  only  half  a  mind,  then !  We  will  go 
to-morrow,  wind  and  weather  agreeing." 

"  And  what  must  I  do  ?  " 

"  You  must  keep  still,  stand  in  the  shadow,  and  fish  up 
stream." 

At  this  point,  Capua  put  his  head  inside  the  door 
again. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  249 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  Forgot  to  say,  Massa,"  replied  Capua,  rolling  his  eyes 
fearfully,  and  still  hesitating,  and  half-closing  the  door,  and 
then  looking  back. 

"Well,  Capua?" 

"  Mass'  Raleigh,  your  house  done  been  burned  up !  " 
said  Capua,  at  last,  jerking  back  his  head,  as  if  afraid  of 
losing  it. 

"  Ah  ?     And  what  did  you  do  with  —  " 

"  Oh,  eberyting  safe  an'  sound.  'T  a'n't  dat  house  ; 
't  a'n't  dis  yer  house  Massa  lib  in; — Massa's  sparrer- 
house.  Reckoned  I  'd  better  come  and  'form  him." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  his  master,  who  was  accustomed 
to  Capua's  method  of  breaking  ill  news. 

"  Now,  Mass'  Roger,  don't  you  go  to  being  pervoked 
an'  flyin'  into  one  ob  dese  yer  tempers  !  It 's  all  distin 
guished  now.  Ole  Cap  did  n't  want  to  shock  his  young 
massa,  so  thought  't  warn't  de  wisest  way  to  tell  him 
't  warn't  de  sparrer-house,  either,  at  first.  'Twas  de  in 
side  ob  de  libery,  if  he  must  know  de  troof ;  wet  an'  smut 
ty  dar  now,  mebbe,  but  no  fire." 

"  Why  not  ?  What  made  the  fire  go  out  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Raleigh,  composedly. 

"  Well,  two  reasons,"  replied  Capua,  rolling  a  glance 
over  the  company ;  —  "  one  was  dis  chile's  exertions ;  an* 
t'other  fact,  on  account  ob  wich  de  flames  was  checked, 
was  because  dere  warn't  no  more  to  burn.  Hi !  " 

"  Capua,  take  Nan,  and  don't  let  me  see  your  face 
again,  till  I  send  for  it ! "  said  his  master,  now  slightly 
irate. 

"  Massa's  nigger  alwes  mind  him,"  was  the  dutiful  re 
sponse. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale's  handkerchief  fell  at  that  moment 


250  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

from  the  hand  that  hung  over  the  balustrade.  Capua 
darted  to  restore  it. 

"  Bress  her  pretty  eyes  ! "  said  he.  "  Ole  Cap  see 's 
fur  into  a  millstone  as  any  one ! "  and  vanished  through 
the  doorway. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Laudersdale.  "  He  has  refused  to  leave  me,  and  I  must 
indulge  him  too  much,  and  my  sins  fall  on  the  head  of  the 
nearest  passer.  He  appears  to  have  a  constitutional  ina 
bility  to  comprehend  this  absence  of  punishment.  His 
immunity  is  so  painful  to  him  that  I  sometimes  fancy  him 
to  be  'homesick  for  a  lashing.  In  fact,  all  those  Burdens 
of  the  Book  of  Isaiah,  which  his  people  carry  on  their 
backs,  are  dust  in  his  balance.  The  sorrows  that  have 
darkened  the  brows  of  his  race  touch  no  electric  chord  in 
him.  Capua  is  not  a  representative  man.  He  is  only 
the  dry-nurse  of  my  failings.  Ah,  welladay  !  Now  if  I 
do  not  hasten  home,  Kate,  I  shall  find  a  conflagration  of 
the  whole  house  there  before  me." 

And  making  quick  adieux,  —  while  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
jested  about  tempting  the  raging  waters,  and  the  dinner- 
bell  was  ringing,  and  Helen  singing, 

"  Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie,  dear  Charlie,  brave  Charlie! 
Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie,  and  dine  wi'  McLean!  " 

he  opened  the  door,  suffered  a  patch  of  blue  sky  to  be 
seen,  and  the  segment  of  an  afternoon  rainbow,  shut  it, 
and  was  gone. 

Early  again  the  next  morning,  Mr.  Raleigh  sought  the 
Bawn,  followed  this  time  by  Capua,  who  was  determined 
not  to  lose  any  ground  once  made,  and  who  now  carried 
the  rods,  bait,  and  other  paraphernalia. 

"  Powerful  pretty   woman,  dat,  Massa ! "    said  he,  as 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  251 

through  the  open  doors  a  voice  was  heard  gayly  exclaim 
ing  and  answering. 

"  Which  one,  Capua  ?  "  asked  his  master. 

"  A'n't  no  t'orrer,"  was  his  reply ;  "  leastwise,  a'n't  no 
'count,  —  good  for  nott'n.  Now  she,  —  pity  she  a'n't  sin 
gle,  Massa,  —  should  say  she  'd  lived  where  sun  was 
plenty  and  had  laid  up  heaps  in  her  heart." 

Here  Mrs.  Laudersdale  came  out,  and  shortly  after 
ward  Helen  and  three  or  four  others.  In  reply  to  their 
questions,  Mr.  Raleigh  stated  that  the  preceding  day's 
disaster  had  been  occasioned  by  a  meerschaum,  and  had 
merely  charred  a  table  with  its  superficies  of  papers  and 
pamphlets,  which  Capua  had  chosen  to  magnify  for  his 
own  purposes ;  and  the  asssemblage  immediately  turned 
its  course  inland  and  toward  the  brooks.  The  two  who 
led  soon  distanced  the  rest,  Capua  trudging  respectfully 
behind  and  keeping  them  in  sight.  Here,  as  they  brushed 
along  through  the  woods,  they  delayed  in  order  to  examine 
a  partridge's  nest,  to  tree  a  squirrel,  to  gather  some  strange 
wild-flower  opening  at  their  approach.  Here  on  the  banks 
they  watched  the  bitterns  rise  and  sail  heavily  away,  and 
finally  in  silence  commenced  the  genuine  sport. 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  Helen  Heath,  meaningly,  as  Mrs. 
Laudersdale,  when  the  others  joined  them,  displayed  her 
first  capture.  "  Is  that  all  you  've  caught  ?  " 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  drew  in  another  for  reply. 

"  How  absurd  !  "  said  Helen.  "  Here  a  month  ago 
you  were  the  dearest  and  most  helpless  of  mortals,  and 
now  you  are  doing  everything ! " 

The  other  opened  her  eyes  a  moment,  and  then  laughed. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  she. 

"  Shs !  shs ! "  echoed  Capua,  making  an  infinite  hub 
bub  himself. 


252  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Silence  accordingly  reigned  and  produced  a  string  fit 
for  the  Sultan's  kitchen,  —  of  all  the  number,  Mrs.  Lau- 
dersdale  adding  by  far  the  majority,  —  possibly  because 
her  shining  prey  found  destination  in  the  same  basket 
with  Mr.  Raleigh's,  —  possibly  because,  as  Helen  had  in 
timated,  a  sudden  deftness  had  bewitched  her  fingers,  so 
that  neither  dropping  rod  nor  tangling  reel  detained  her 
for  an  instant. 

"  Our  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places,"  said  Helen, 
as  they  took  at  last  their  homeward  path  ;  "  and  what  a 
shame  !  not  an  adventure  yet !  " 

Mrs.  McLean  hung  on  Mr.  Raleigh's  arm  as  they  went, 
—  for  she  had  taken  a  whim  and  feared  to  see  her  cousin 
in  the  fangs  of  a  coquette ;  by  which  means  Helen  be 
came  the  companion  of  Captain  Purcell  and  his  daughter, 
and  Mrs.  Laudersdale  kept  lightly  in  advance,  leading  a 
gambol  with  the  greyhound  that  Capua  had  added  to  the 
party,  and  presenting  in  one  person,  as  she  went  springing 
from  knoll  to  knoll  along  the  bank,  now  in  sunshine,  now 
in  shade,  lifting  the  green  boughs  or  sweeping  them  aside, 
a  succession  of  the  vivid  figures  of  some  antique  and  pro 
cessional  frieze.  Suddenly,  with  a  quick  cry,  she  disap 
peared,  and  Helen  had  her  adventure.  Mr.  Raleigh 
darted  forward,  while  the  hound  came  frisking  back; 
yet,  when  .he  found  her  fainting  in  the  hollow,  stood 
with  stolid  immobility  until  Capua  snatched  her  up  and 
carried  her  along  in  his  arms,  leaving  his  master  to  reflect 
how  many  times  such  swarthy  servitors  might  have  borne 
her,  as  a  child,  through  her  island  groves.  And  thus  the 
party,  somewhat  sobered,  resumed  their  march  again. 
But  in  the  discovery  that  he  had  not  dared  to  lift  her 
in  his  arms,  he  who  took  such  liberties  with  every  one,  — 
that,  lying  under  her  semblance  of  death,  she  had  inspired 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  253 

him  with  a  certain  awe,  that  he  had  suddenly  found  this 
woman  to  be  an  object  somewhat  sacred,  —  in  this  discov 
ery  Mr.  Raleigh  learned  not  a  little.  And  it  would  not, 
perhaps,  be  an  untrue  surmise  that  he  found  therein,  as 
much  of  pain  as  of  any  other  emotion ;  since  all  the  ex 
periences  and  passions  of  life  must  share  the  phenomena 
of  the  great  fact  itself  whose  pulse  beats  through  them ; 
and  if  to  love  unawares  be  to  dwell  like  a  child  in  the  re 
gion  of  thoughtless  and  innocent  bliss,  in  attaining  man 
hood  all  the  sadness  which  is  to  be  eliminated  from  life 
becomes  apparent,  and  bliss  henceforth  must  be  sought 
and  earned.  From  that  day,  then,  Mr.  Raleigh  with  dif 
ficulty  retained  his  former  habits,  prevented  any  eagerness 
of  manner,  maintained  a  cautious  vigilance,  and  in  so  do 
ing  he  again  became  aware  that  the  easy  insouciance  with 
which  he  addressed  all  other  women  had  long  been  lost 
toward  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  or,  if  yet  existing,  had  become 
like  the  light  and  tender  play  of  any  lingering  summer- 
wind  in  the  tress  upon  her  brow. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale's  ankle  having  been  injured  by  her 
fall,  and  Mrs.  McLean  having  taken  a  cold,  the  two  in 
valids  now  became  during  a  week  and  a  day  the  auditory 
for  all  quips  and  pranks  that  Miss  Heath  and  Mr.  Raleigh 
could  devise.  And  on  the  event  of  their  convalescence, 
the  Lord  of  Misrule  himself  seemed  to  have  ordained  the 
course  of  affairs,  with  a  swarming  crew  of  all  the  imps 
and  mischiefs  ever  hatched.  Mr.  Raleigh  and  Capua 
went  and  came  with  boat-loads  of  gorgeous  stuff  from 
across  the  lake,  a  little  old  man  appeared  on  the  spot  in 
answer  to  a  flight  of  telegrams,  machinery  and  scenery 
rose  like  exhalations,  music  was  brought  from  the  city, 
all  the  availables  of  the  family  were  to  be  found  in  gar 
den,  closet,  house-top,  conning  hieroglyphical  pages,  and 


254  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

the  whole  chaotic  confusion  takes  final  shape  and  resolves 
into  a  little  Spanish  Masque,  to  which  kings  and  queens 
have  once  listened  in  courtly  state,  and  which  now  unrolls 
its  resplendent  pageant  before  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Lauders- 
dale,  translating  her,  as  it  were,  into  another  planet,  where 
familiar  faces  in  pompous  entablature  look  out  upon  her 
from  a  whirl  of  light  and  color,  and  familiar  voices  utter 
stately  sentences  in  some  honeyed  unknown  tongue.  And 
finally,  when  the  glittering  parade  finishes,  and  the  strange 
groups,  in  their  costly  raiment,  throng  out  for  dancing,  she 
herself  gives  her  hand  to  some  Prince  of  the  pageantry, 
who  does  her  homage,  and,  sealing  the  fact  of  her  restora 
tion,  swims  once  round  the  room  in  a  mist  of  harmony,  and 
afterward  sits  by  his  side,  captive  to  his  will,  and  subject 
to  his  enchantment,  while 

"  All  night  had  the  roses  heard 

The  flute,  violin,  bassoon, 
All  night  had  the  casement  jessamine  stirred 

With  the  dancers  dancing  in  tune, 
Till  a  silence  fell  with  the  waking  bird 

And  a  hush  with  the  setting  moon." 

This  little  episode  of  illness  and  recovery  having  been 
thus  duly  celebrated,  the  masqueraders  again  forswore 
roofs  and  spent  long  days  in  distant  junketing  throughout 
the  woods  ;  the  horses,  too,  were  brought  into  requisition, 
and  a  flock  of  boats  kept  forever  on  the  wing.  And 
meanwhile,  as  Helen  Heath  said,  —  she  then  least  of  all 
comprehending  the  real  drama  of  that  summer,  —  Mrs. 
Laudersdale  had  taught  them  how  the  Greek  animated 
his  statue. 

"  And  how  was  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  He  took  it  out-doors,  I  fancy,  and  called  the  winds  to 
curl  about  it.  He  set  its  feet  in  morning-dew,  he  let  in 
light  and  shade  through  green  dancing  leaves  above  it,  he 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  255 

gave  it  glimpses  of  moon  and  star,  he  taught  the  forest- 
birds  to  chirp  and  whistle  in  its  ear,  and  finally  he  steeped 
it  in  sunshine." 

"  Sunshine,  then  was  the  vivifying  stroke  ?  " 

Helen  nodded. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  he ;  "  the  man  never  found  a 
soul  in  his  work  till  he  put  his  own  there  first." 

"  I  always  wonder,"  remarked  Mrs.  Laudersdale  here, 
"  that  every  artist,  in  brooding  over  his  marble,  adding, 
touching,  bringing  out  effects,  does  not  end  by  loving  it,  — 
absorbingly,  because  so  beautiful  to  him,  —  despairingly, 
because  to  him  forever  silent." 

"  You  need  n't  wonder  anything  about  it,"  said  Helen, 
mischievously.  "  All  that  you  have  to  do  is  to  make  the 
most  of  your  sunshine." 

Mr.  McLean,  struck  with  some  sudden  thought,  in 
spected  the  three  as  they  stood  in  a  blaze  of  the  midsum 
mer  noon,  then  crossed  over  to  his  little  wife,  drew  her 
arm  in  his,  and  held  it  with  cautious  imprisonment.  The 
other  wife  did  as  she  was  bidden,  and  made  the  most  of 
her  sunshine. 

If,  on  first  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  had  fasci 
nated  by  her  repose,  her  tropical  languor,  her  latent  fire, 
the  charm  was  none  the  less,  when,  turning,  it  became 
one  dazzle  of  animation,  of  careless  freedom,  of  swift  and 
easy  grace.  Nor,  unfamiliar  as  were  such  traits,  did 
they  seem  at  all  foreign  to  her,  but  rather,  when  once 
donned;  never  to  have  been  absent ;  as  if,  indeed,  she  had 
always  been  this  royal  creature,  this  woman  bright  and 
winning  as  some  warm,  rich  summer's  day.  The  fire 
that  sleeps  in  marble  never  flashes  and  informs  the  whole 
mass  so  fully  ;  if  a  pearl  —  lazy  growth  and  accretion  of 
amorphous  life  —  should  fuse  and  form  again  in  sparkling 


256  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

crystals,  the  miracle  would  be  less.  And  with  what  com 
plete  unconsciousness  had  she  stepped  from  passive  to 
positive  existence,  and  found  this  new  state  to  be  as  sweet 
and  strange  as  any  child  has  found  it !  Long  a  wife,  she 
had  known,  nevertheless,  nothing  but  quiet  custom  or  in 
difference,  and  had  dreamed  of  love  only  as  the  dark  and 
silent  side  of  the  moon  might  dream  of  light.  Now  she 
grew  and  unfolded  in  the  warmth  of  this  season,  like  a 
blossom  perfumed  and  splendid.  Sunbeams  seemed  to 
lance  themselves  out  of  heaven  and  splinter  about  her. 
She  queened  it  over  demesnes  of  sprite-like  revelry  ;  the 
life  they  led  was  sylvan ;  at  their  fetes  the  sun  assisted. 
The  summer  held  to  her  lips  a  glass  whose  rosy  efferves 
cence,  whose  fleeting  foam,  whose  tingling  spirit  exhaled 
a  subtile  madness  of  joy,  —  a  draught  whose  lees  were 
despair.  So  nearly  had  she  been  destitute  of  emotion 
hitherto  that  she  had  scarcely  a  right  to  be  classed  with 
humanity ;  now,  indeed,  she  would  win  that  right.  Not 
only  her  character,  but  her  beauty,  became  another  thing 
under  all  this  largess  ;  one  remembered  the  very  Per 
sian  rose,  in  looking  at  her,  and  thought  of  gardens  amid 
whose  clouds  of  rich  perfume  the  nightingales  sang  all 
night  long ;  her  manner,  too,  became  strangely  gracious, 
and  a  sweetness  lingered  after  her  presence,  delicate  and 
fine  as  the  drop  of  honey  in  some  flower's  nectary.  So 
she  woke  from  her  icy  trance ;  but,  alas !  what  had 
wakened  her  ? 

The  summer  was  passing.  Every  day  the  garden- 
scenes  of  Watteau  became  vivid  and  real ;  every  evening 
Venice  was  made  possible,  when  shadowy  barks  slipped 
down  dusk  tides,  freighted  with  song  and  laughter,  and 
snatches  of  guitar-tinkling ;  and  when  some  sudden  torch, 
that  for  an  instant  had  summoned  with  its  red  fire  all 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  257 

fierce  lights  and  strong  glooms,  dipped,  hissed,  and 
quenched  below,  and,  a  fantastic  flotilla,  they  passed  on 
into  the  broad  brilliance  of  a  rising  moon,  all  Middle-Age 
mythology  rose  and  wafted  them  back  into  the  obscurity. 
It  was  a  life  too  fine  for  every  day,  fare  too  rich  for 
health ;  they  must  be  exotics  who  did  not  wither  in  such 
hot-house  air.  It  was  rapidly  becoming  unnatural.  They 
performed  in  the  daylight  stray  clarified  bits  from 
Fletcher  or  Moliere,  drama  of  an  era  over-ripe  ;  they 
sang  only  from  an  old  book  of  madrigals  ;  their  very 
reading  was  fragmentary,  —  now  an  emasculated  Boc 
caccio,  then  a  curdling  phantasm  of  Poe's,  and  after  some 
such  scenic  horror  as  the  "  Red  Death "  Helen  Heath 
dashed  off  the  Pesther  Waltzes. 

If,  finally,  on  one  of  the  last  August-nights,  we  had 
passed,  Asmodeus-like,  over  the  roofs,  looking  down  we 
should  have  seen  three  things.  First,  that  Mrs.  Lauders- 
dale  slept  like  any  innocent  dreamer,  and,  wrapped  with 
white  moonlight,  in  her  long  and  flowing  outline,  in  her 
imperceptible  breath,  resembling  some  perfect  statue  that 
we  fancy  to  be  instinct  with  suspended  life.  Next,  that 
Mr.  Raleigh  did  not  sleep  at  all,  but  absorbed  himself,  to 
the  entire  disturbance  of  Capua's  slumbers,  in  the  rapture 
of  reproducing,  as  he  could,  the  turbulent  passion  and  joy 
of  souls  larger  than  his  own.  And,  lastly,  that  Mrs. 
McLean  woke  with  visions  of  burglars  before  her  eyes, 
to  find  her  pillow  deserted  and  her  husband  sitting  at  a 
writing-table. 

"  How  startled  I  was  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  are 
you  doing,  dear  ?  " 

"  Writing  to  Laudersdale,"  he  said,  in  reply. 

"  Why,  what  for  ?  —  what  can  you  be  writing  to  him 
for?" 


258  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  I  think  it  best  he  should  come  and  take  his  wife  off 
my  hands." 

"  How  absurd !  how  contemptible  !  how  all  you  hus 
bands  band  together  like  a  parcel  of  slaveholders,  and 
hunt  down  each  other's  runaways ! " 

Mr.  McLean  laughed. 

"  Now,  John,  you  're  not  making  mischief?  " 

"  No,  child,  I  am  preventing  it."  And  therewith  the 
worthy  man,  dropping  the  wax  on  the  envelope,  imprinted 
it  with  a  Scotch  crest,  and  put  out  the  light.  "  That 's 
off  my  mind ! "  said  he. 

At  last  September  came  ;  a  few  more  weeks,  and  they 
would  separate,  perhaps,  to  the  four  corners  of  the  earth. 
Mr.  Raleigh  arrived  one  afternoon  at  the  Bawn,  and 
finding  no  one  to  welcome  him,  —  that  is  to  say,  Mrs. 
Laudersdale  had  gone  out,  and  Helen  Heath  was  invisi 
ble,  —  he  betook  himself  to  a  solitary  stroll,  and,  by  a 
short  cut  through  the  woods,  to  the  highway,  and  just 
before  emerging  from  the  green  shadows  he  met  Mrs. 
Laudersdale. 

"  Whither  now,  Wandering  Willie  ?  "  said  she  ;  for, 
singularly  enough,  they  seemed  to  avoid  speaking  each 
other's  name  in  direct  address,  using  always  some  title 
suggested  by  their  reading  or  singing,  or  some  sportive 
impromptu. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  the  road." 

"  Like  a  gallant  highwayman  ? "  And  without  more 
ado,  and  naturally  enough,  she  accompanied  him. 

The  conversation,  this  afternoon,  was  sufficiently  insig 
nificant  ;  indeed,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  always  affected  you 
more  by  her  silence  than  her  speech,  by  what  she  was 
rather  than  by  what  she  said ;  and  it  is  only  the  impres 
sion  produced  on  her  by  this  walk  with  which  we  have 
any  concern. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  259 

The  road,  narrow  and  winding  in  high  banks  fringed 
with  golden-rod  and  purple  asters,  was  at  first  complete 
ly  shadowed,  —  an  old,  deep-rutted,  cross-country  road, 
birch-trees  shivering  at  either  side,  and  every  now  and 
then  a  puff  of  pine-breath  drifting  in  between.  After  a 
time  it  rose  gradually  into  the  turnpike,  and  became  a 
long,  dusty  track,  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  a 
straight,  dazzling  line,  burnt  white  by  summer-heats, 
powdered  by  travel.  There  was  no  wind  stirring ;  the 
sky  was  lost  in  a  hot  film  stained  here  and  there  with 
sulphurous  wreaths ;  the  distant  fields,  skirted  by  low 
hills,  were  bathed  in  an  azure  mist ;  nearer,  a  veil  of  dun 
and  dimmer  smoke  from  burning  brush  hung  motionless  ; 
around  their  feet  the  dust  whirled  and  fell  again.  Bathed 
in  soft,  voluptuous  tints,  hazed  and  mellowed,  into  what 
weird,  strange  country  were  they  hastening  ?  What  vis 
ionary  land  of  delight,  replete  with  perfume  and  luxury, 
lay  ever  beyond  ?  —  what  region  rich,  unknown,  forbidden, 
whose  rank  vegetation  steamed  with  such  insidious  poi 
son  ?  And  on  what  arid,  barren  road,  what  weary  road, — 
but,  alas,  long  worn  and  beaten  by  the  feet  of  other  way 
farers  !  a  road  that  ran  real  and  strong  through  this 
noxious  and  seducing  mirage  ! 

A  sudden  blast  of  wind  lifted  a  cloud  of  dust  from  be 
fore  them  and  twisted  it  down  among  the  meadows  ;  the 
sun  thrust  aside  his  shroud  and  burnt  for  an  instant  on  a 
scarlet  maple-bough  that  hung  in  premature  brilliance 
across  the  way.  The  hasty  color,  true  and  fine,  was  like 
a  spell  against  enchantment ;  it  was  the  drop  that  tested 
the  virtue  of  this  chemistry  and  proved  it  naught. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  looked  askance  at  her  companion, 
then  turned  and  met  his  gaze.  Slowly  her  lashes  fell, 
the  earth  seemed  to  fail  beneath  her  feet,  the  light  to 


260  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

swoon  from  her  eyes,  her  lips  shook,  and  a  full  flush 
swept  branding  and  burning  up  throat  and  face,  sting 
ing  her  very  forehead,  and  shooting  down  her  finger-tips. 
In  an  instant  it  had  faded,  and  she  shone  the  pallid, 
splendid  thing  she  was  before.  In  that  instant,  for  the 
first  time  this  summer,  she  comprehended  that  her  hus 
band's  existence  imported  anything  to  her.  Behind  the 
maple-tree,  the  wood  began  again ;  without  a  syllable,  she 
stepped  aside,  suffered  him  to  pass,  and  hastened  to  bury 
herself  in  its  recesses. 

What  lover  ever  accounted  for  his  mistress's  caprices  ? 
Mr.  Raleigh  proceeded  on  his  walk  alone.  And  what 
was  her  husband  to  him  ?  He  did  not  know  that  such  a 
man  existed.  For  him  there  had  been  no  deadly  allure 
ment  in  the  fervid  scene ;  it  had  stretched  a  land  of 
promise  veiled  in  its  azure  ardors,  with  intimations  of 
rapture  and  certainty  of  rest.  Now,  as  he  wandered 
on  and  turned  down  another  lane  to  the  woods,  the 
tints  grew  deeper;  his  eyes,  bent  inward,  saw  all  the 
world  in  the  color  of  his  thought ;  he  would  have  af 
firmed  that  the  bare  brown  banks  were  lined  in  deep- 
toned  indigo  flower-bells  whose  fragrance  rose  visible 
above  them  or  curled  from  stem  to  stem,  and  that  the 
hollows  in  which  the  path  hid  itself  at  last  were  of  the 
same  soft  gloom.  But,  finally,  when  not  far  distant  from 
the  Bawn  again,  he  shook  off  his  reverie  and  struck  an 
other  path  that  he  might  avoid  rencontre.  Perhaps  the 
very  sound  that  awoke  him  was  the  one  he  wished  to 
shun ;  at  the  next  step  it  became  more  distinct,  —  a 
child's  voice  singing  some  tuneless  song ;  and  directly  a 
tiny  apparition  appeared  before  him,  as  if  it  had  taken 
shape,  with  its  wide,  light  eyes  and  corn-silk  hair,  from 
the  most  wan  and  watery  of  sunbeams.  But  what  had  a 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  261 

child  to  do  in  this  paradise,  thought  he,  and  from  whence 
did  it  come  ?  Impossible  to  imagine.  Her  garments,  of 
rich  material,  hung  freshly  torn,  it  may  be,  but  in  shreds ; 
her  skin,  if  that  of  some  fair  and  delicate  nursling,  was 
stained  with  berries  and  smeared  with  soil ;  she  seemed 
to  have  no  destination;  and  after  surveying  him  a  mo 
ment,  she  mounted  a  fallen  tree,  and,  bending  and  swing 
ing  forward  over  a  bough,  still  surveyed  him. 

"  Ah,  ha  !  "  said  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh ;  "  what  have  we 
here?" 

The  child  still  looked  in  his  face,  but  vouchsafed,  in  her 
swinging,  no  reply. 

"  What  is  the  little  lady's  name  ?  "  he  asked  then. 

This  query,  apparently  more  comprehensible,  elicited  a 
response.  She  informed  him  that  her  name  was  "  Dy- 
mom,  Pink,  and  Beauty." 

"  Indeed  !     And  anything  else  ?  " 

"  Rose  Pose,"  she  added,  as  if  soliciting  the  aid  of  mem 
ory  by  lifting  her  hands  near  her  temples. 

« Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Little  silly  Daffodilly." 

"No  more?" 

«  Rite." 

"  Rite,  —  ah,  that  is  it !     Rite  what  ?  " 

"  Rite  ! "  said  the  child,  authoritatively,  bringing  down 
her  foot  and  shaking  back  her  hair. 

"And  how  old  is  Rite?"  -     » 

"  One,  two,  four,  twenty.  Maman  is  twenty ; —  Rite  is 
twenty,  too." 

"When  was  Rite  four?" 

"  A  great  while  ago.  She  went  to  heaven  in  the  after 
noon,"  was  added,  confidentially,  after  a  moment's  inspec 
tion  to  see  if  he  were  worthy. 


262  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Ah  !     And  what  was  there  there  ?  " 

"  Pitchtures,  and  music,  and  peoples,  and  a  great 
house." 

"  And  where  is  Rite  going  now  ?  " 

"  Going  away  in  a  ship." 

"  Rite  will  have  to  wash  her  face  first." 

But  at  this  proposition  the  child  flashed  open  her  pale- 
blue  orbs,  half-closed  them  as  a  sleepy  cat  does,  and,  with 
no  other  change  of  countenance  to  mark  her  indignation, 
appeared  to  shut  him  out  from  her  contemplation.  Di 
rectly  afterward,  she  opened  them  again,  bent  forward  and 
back  over  the  swinging,  and  recommenced  her  song,  as  if 
there  were  not  another  person  than  herself  within  a  hun 
dred  miles.  Half-hidden  in  the  great  hemlock-bough,  this 
tiny,  fantastic  creature,  so  fair,  so  supercilious,  seemed 
in  her  waywardness  a  veritable  fay,  mate  for  any  of 
the  little  men  in  green,  bibbers  of  dew-drops,  lodgers  in 
bean-blossoms,  Green-Jacket,  Red-Cap,  and  White-Owl's- 
Feather. 

Mr.  Raleigh  hesitated  whether  or  not  he  should  remain 
and  watch  her  fade  away  into  the  twilight,  wondered  if 
she  were  bewitching  him,  then  rubbed  his  hand  across 
his  eyes  and  said,  in  a  disenchanted,  matter-of-fact  man 
ner, — 

"  Do  you  know  your  way  home,  child  ?  "  and  obtained, 
of  course,  no  reply.  For  an  instant  he  had  half  the  mind 
to  leave  her  to  find  it ;  but  at  once  convicted  of  his  ab 
surdity,  "  Then  I  shall  take  you  with  me,"  he  said,  mak 
ing  a  step  toward  her,  —  "  because  you  are,  or  will  be, 
lost." 

At  the  motion,  she  darted  past  and  stood  defiantly  just 
out  of  his  reach.  Mr.  Raleigh  attempted  to  seize  her,  but 
he  might  as  easily  have  put  his  hand  on  a  butterfly  ;  she 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  263 

eluded  him  always  when  within  his  grasp,  and  led  him 
such  a  dance  up  and  down  the  forest-path  as  none  other 
than  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  it  seemed,  could  have  woven.  All 
at  once  a  dark  figure  glided  out  from  another  alley  and 
snatched  the  sprite  into  its  arms.  It  was  a  colored  nurse, 
who  poured  out  a  torrent  of  broken  French  and  English 
over  the  runaway,  and  made  her  acknowledgments  to  Mr. 
Raleigh  in  the  same  jargon.  As  she  turned  to  go,  the 
child  stretched  her  arms  toward  her  late  pursuer,  making 
the  nurse  pause,  and,  putting  up  her  little  lips,  touched 
with  them  his  own ;  then,  picturesque  as  ever,  and  thrown 
into  relief  by  the  scarlet  sack,  snowy  turban,  and  sable 
skin  of  her  bearer,  she  disappeared.  It  is  doubtful  if  in, 
all  his  life  Mr.  Raleigh  would  ever  receive  a  purer,  sweet 
er  kiss. 

He  had  promised  to  be  at  the  Bawn  that  evening,  and 
now  accordingly  sought  the  shore,  where  the  Arrow  lay, 
and  was  soon  within  the  shelter  of  his  own  house.  The 
arrangement  of  toilet  was  a  brief  matter ;  and  that  con 
cluded,  Mr.  Raleigh  entered  his  library,  an  apartment 
now  slightly  in  disarray,  and  therefore,  perhaps,  not  un 
congenial  with  his  present  mood.  After  strolling  round 
the  place,  Mr.  Raleigh  paused  at  the  window  an  instant, 
the  window  overhung  with  clematis,  and  commanding  the 
long  stretch  of  water  between  him  and  the  Bawn,  which 
last  was,  however,  too  distant  for  any  movement  to  be 
discerned  there.  Soon  Mr.  Raleigh  turned  his  back  upon 
the  scene  that  lay  pictured  in  such  beauty  below,  and, 
throwing  himself  into  a  deep  arm-chair,  remained  motion 
less  and  plunged  in  thought  for  many  moments.  Rising 
at  last,  he  took  from  the  table  a  package  of  letters  from 
India  that  had  arrived  in  his  absence.  Glancing  absently 
at  the  superscriptions,  breaking  the  seal  of  one,  he  re- 


264  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

placed  them :  it  would  take  too  long  to  read  them  now ; 
they  must  wait.  Then  Mr.  Raleigh  had  recourse  to  a 
universal  panacea,  and  walked  to  and  fro  across  the 
room,  with  measured,  unvarying  steps,  till  the  striking 
clock  warned  him  that  time  was  passing.  Mr.  Raleigh 
drew  near  his  desk  again,  took  up  the  pen,  and  hesitated ; 
then  recalling  his  gaze  that  had  seemed  to  search  his  own 
inmost  nature,  he  drew  the  paper  nearer  and  wrote. 

What  he  wrote,  the  very  words,  may  not  signify ;  with 
the  theme  one  is  sufficiently  acquainted.  Perhaps  he 
poured  out  there  all  that  had  so  often  trembled  on  his 
lips  without  finding  utterance ;  perhaps,  if  ever  passionate 
heart  flashed  its  own  fire  into  its  implements,  this  pen  and 
paper  quivered  beneath  the  current  throbbing  through 
them.  The  page  was  brief,  but  therein  all  was  said. 
Sealing  it  hastily,  he  summoned  Capua. 

"  Capua,"  said  he,  giving  him  the  note,  "  you  are  to  go 
with  me  across  the  lake  now.  We  shall  return  somewhere 
between  eleven  and  twelve.  Just  as  we  leave,  you  are  to 
give  this  note  to  Mrs.  Laudersdale.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"Yah,  Massa,  let  dis  chile  alone,"  responded  Capua, 
grinning  at  the  prospect  of  society,  and  speedily  following 
his  master. 

The  breeze  had  fallen,  so  that  they  rowed  the  whole  dis 
tance,  with  the  idle  sail  hanging  loosely,  and  arrived  only 
just  as  the  red  sunset  painted  the  lake  behind  them  with 
blushing  shadows.  Mr.  Raleigh  joined  Helen  Heath  and 
his  cousin  in  the  hall ;  Capua,  superb  with  the  importance 
of  his  commission,  sought  another  entrance.  But  just  as 
the  latter  individual  had  crossed  the  threshold,  he  encoun 
tered  the  nurse  whom  his  master  had  previously  met  in 
the  wood.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  acceptable  in 
his  eyes  than  this  addition  to  the  circle  below-stairs. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  265 

Capua's  hat  was  in  his  hand  at  once,  and  bows  and 
curtsies  and  articulations  and  gesticulations  followed  with 
such  confusing  rapidity,  that,  when  the  mutually  pleased 
pair  turned  in  company  toward  the  kitchens,  a  scrap  of 
white  paper,  that  had  fluttered  down  in  the  disorder,  was 
suffered  to  remain  unnoticed  on  the  floor.  The  courier 
had  lost  his  despatch.  Coming  in  from  her  walk,  not  five 
minutes  later,  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  eye  was  caught  thereby; 
stooping  to  take  it,  she  read  with  surprise  her  own  name 
thereon,  and  ascended  the  stairs  possessed  thereof. 

What  burden  of  bliss,  what  secret  of  sorrow,  lay  in 
folded  there,  that  at  the  first  thought  she  covered  it  with 
sudden  kisses,  and  the  next,  crushing  it  against  her  heart, 
burst  into  a  wild  weeping  ?  Again  and  again  she  read  it, 
and  at  every  word  its  intense  magne'tic  strength  thrilled 
her,  rapt  her  from  remembrance,  conquered  her.  She 
seized  a  pencil  and  wrote  hurriedly :  — 

"  You  are  right.  With  you  I  live,  without  you  I  die. 
You  shut  heaven  out  from  me ;  make  earth,  then,  heaven. 
Come  to  me,  for  I  love  you.  Yes,  I  love  you." 

She  did  not  stay  to  observe  the  contrast  between  her 
fervent  sentences  and  the  weak,  faint  characters  that 
expressed  them,  but  hastily  sought  the  servant  who  was 
jcustomed  to  act  as  postman,  gave  him  directions  to  ac 
quaint  her  of  its  reception,  and  watched  him  out  of  sight, 
ill  that  in  the  swiftness  of  a  fever-fit.  Scarcely  had  the 
>at  vanished  when  old  thoughts  rushed  over  her  again, 
and  she  would  have  given  her  life  to  recall  it.  Return 
ing,  she  found  Capua  eagerly  searching  for  the  lost  letter, 
and  thus  learned  that  she  was  not  to  have  received  it 
until  several  hours  later. 

Perhaps  no  other  woman  in  her  situation  could  have 
done  what  Mrs.  Laudersdale  had  done,  without  incurring 
12 


266  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

more  guilt.  There  could  be  few  who  had  been  reared  in 
such  isolation  as  she,  —  whose  intellect,  naturally  subject 
to  her  affection,  had  become  more  so  through  the  absence 
of  systematic  education,  —  whose  morality  had  been 
allowed  to  be  merely  one  of  instinct,  —  to  whom  intro 
spection  had  been  till  now  a  thing  unknown,  —  and  who, 
accepting  a  husband  as  another  child  accepts  a  parent, 
had,  in  the  whirl  of  gay  life  where  she  afterward  reigned, 
found  so  little  time  for  thought,  and  remained  in  such 
mental  unsophistication  as  to  experience  now  her  first 
passion. 

As  Mrs.  Laudersdale  entered  her  room  again,  the  oppo 
site  door  opened  and  admitted  that  individual  the  selfish 
ness  of  whose  marriage  was  but  half  expiated  when  he 
found  himself  on  the  surplus  side  of  the  world. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Raleigh  was  gayly  passing  the 
time  with  Helen  Heath.  There  were  to  be  some  guests 
from  the  town  that  evening,  and  they  were  the  topic  of 
her  discourse. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  are  never  to  have  tea,"  said  she  at 
last,  looking  at  her  watch. 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  attached  to  the  custom,"  said 
he,  indifferently,  as  he  had  said  everything  else,  while 
intently  listening  for  a  footstep. 

"  Ah  !  but  I  like  to  see  other  folks  take  their  bitters." 

"  Do  not  even  the  publicans  the  same  ?  " 

"  You  will  become  a  proficient  chemist,  converting  the 
substance  of  my  remarks  to  airy  nothings  through  your 
gospel-retorts." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  your  optics  as  well.  You  like  to 
see  other  folks ;  taking  the  bitters  is  a  different  thing. 
The  tea-bell  is  a  tocsin." 

"  Pshaw  !     You  don't  care  to  see  any  one  !    But  shall 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  267 

there  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  ?  Have  n't  you  any  sym 
pathy  for  a  sweet  tooth  ?  " 

"  None  at  all." 

"  Not  even  in  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  instance  ?  " 

"Mrs.  Laudersdale  has  a  sweet  tooth,  then?"  Mr. 
Raleigh  asked  in  return,  as  if  there  were  any  trivial  thing 
concerning  her  in  which  he  could  yet  be  instructed. 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  tell  you  anything  about  Mrs. 
Laudersdale." 

"  There  comes  that  desired  object,  the  tea-tray.  It 's 
not  to  be  formal,  then,  to-night.  That 's  a  blessing ! 
What  shall  I  bring  you  ? "  he  continued,  —  "  tea  or 
cocoa  ?  " 

"  Neither.  You  may  have  the  tea,  and  I  '11  leave  the 
cocoa  for  Mrs.  Laudersdale." 

"  Mrs.  Laudersdale  drinks  cocoa,  then  ?  " 

"  You  may  bring  me  some  milk  and  macaroons." 

As  Mr.  Raleigh  was  about  to  obey,  his  little  apparition 
of  the  wood  suddenly  appeared  in  the  doorway,  followed 
by  her  nurse,  —  having  arisen  from  the  discipline  of  bath 
and  brush,  fair  and  spotless  as  a  snowflake.  She  flitted 
by  him  with  a  mocking  recognition. 

"  Rite ! "  cried  a  voice  from  above,  familiar,  but  with 
how  strange  a  tone  in  it !  "  Little  Rite ! " 

"  Maman  ! "  cried  the  sprite,  and  went  dancing  up  the 
stairs. 

Mr.  Raleigh's  face,  as  he  turned,  darkened  with  a 
heavier  flush  than  half  a  score  of  Indian  summers 
branded  upon  it  afterward. 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  little  maid  ? "  asked  he, 
when,  after  a  few  moments,  he  brought  the  required 
salver. 

"  Yes,  —  would  you  ever  suspect  it  ?  " 


268  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Numberless  as  had  been  the  times  he  had  heard  her 
speak  of  Rite,  he  never  had  suspected  it,  but  had  always 
at  the  name  pictured  some  indifferent  child,  some  baby- 
friend,  or  cousin  by  courtesy. 

"  She  is  not  like  her  mother,"  said  he,  coolly. 

"  The  very  antipodes,  —  all  her  father.  —  Bless  me  ! 
What  is  this  ?  A  real  Laudersdale  mess,  —  custards  and 
cheese-cakes,  —  and  I  detest  them  both." 

"  Blame  my  unfortunate  memory.  I  thought  I  had 
certainly  pleased  you,  Miss  Helen." 

"  When  you  forgot  my  orders  ?  Well,  never  mind. 
Is  n't  she  exquisite  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  who  exquisite  ?  Oh,  the  little  maid  ?  Quite  ! 
Why  has  n't  she  been  here  all  summer  ? " 

"  She  was  always  a  sickly,  ailing  thing,  and  has  been 
at  one  of  those  rich  Westchester  farms  where  health  and 
immortality  are  made.  And  now  she  is  going  away  to 
Martinique,  where  her  grandmother  will  take  charge  of 
her,  bottle  up  those  spirits,  and  make  her  a  second  edition 
of  her  mother.  By  the  way,  how  that  mother  has  effer 
vesced  this  summer ! "  continued  Helen,  as  the  detested 
custard  disappeared.  "  I  wonder  what  made  her.  Do 
you  suppose  it  was  because  her  husband  was  away  ? " 

At  that  instant  Mrs.  Laudersdale  came  sailing  down 
the  stairs. 

A  week  previously,  when,  to  repay  the  civilities  of 
their  friends  in  the  neighboring  city,  Mrs.  McLean  had 
made  a  little  fancy-party,  Helen  appearing  as  Champagne, 
all  in  rosy  gauzes  with  a  veiling  foam  of  dropping  silver 
lace,  had  begged  Mrs.  Laudersdale  to  give  her  promi 
nence  by  dressing  for  Port ;  and  accordingly  that  lady 
had  arrayed  herself  in  velvet,  out  of  which  her  shoulders 
rose  like  snow,  and  whose  rich  duskiness  made  her  per- 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 


269 


feet  pallor  more  apparent,  while  its  sumptuous  body  of 
color  was  sprinkled  with  glittering  crystal  drops  and  cor 
uscations  ;  and  wreathing  her  forehead  with  crisp  vine- 
leaves  and  tendrils,  she  had  bunched  together  in  intricate 
splendor  all  the  amethysts,  carbuncles,  garnets,  and  rubies 
in  the  house,  for  grape-clusters  at  the  ear,  till  she  seemed, 
with  her  smile  and  her  sunshine,  the  express  and  incar 
nate  spirit  of  vintage.  To-night,  stripped  of  its  sparkling 
drops,  she  wore  the  same  dress,  and  in  her  hair  a  wreath 
of  fresh  white  roses.  Behind  her  descended  a  tall  and 
stately  gentleman.  She  swept  forward.  "  Mr.  Raleigh," 
she  murmured,  while  her  eyes  diffused  their  gloom  and 
fell,  "  let  me  introduce  you  to  my  husband !  " 

The  blow  had  come  previously.  Mr.  Raleigh  bowed 
almost  to  the  ground,  without  a  word,  then  looked  up  and 
offered  his  hand.  Mr.  Laudersdale  comprehended  the 
whole  matter  at  a  heart-beat,  and  took  it.  Then  they 
moved  on  toward  other  friends,  whom,  while  waiting  for 
knowledge  of  his  wife's  return  from  her  walk,  Mr.  Lau 
dersdale  had  not  seen.  Mr.  Raleigh  went  in  search  of 
Capua,  and  ere  long  reappeared. 

It  grew  quite  dark;  the  candles  were  lighted.  Rite 
slipped  in,  and,  after  having  flown  about  like  a  thistle 
down  for  a  while,  mounted  a  chair  and  put  her  arms 
about  her  mother's  shoulders.  Then  Mr.  Raleigh,  sitting 
silently  on  a  sofa,  attracted  her,  and  shortly  afterward  she 
had  curled  herself  beside  him  and  fallen  asleep  with  her 
head  upon  his  knee ;  otherwise  he  did  not  touch  her. 
Mrs.  Laudersdale  stood  by  an  open  casement ;  the  ser 
vant  who  had  carried  her  note  came  up  the  lawn  and 
spoke  to  her  from  without.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
house,  and  he  had  left  it  on  the  library-table.  The  pres 
sure  of  those  tender  little  arms  was  yet  warm  about  the 


270  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

mother's  neck ;  she  glanced  sidelong  at  the  sleeping  child. 
"  He  shall  never  see  that  note ! "  she  murmured,  and 
slipped  through  the  casement. 

Accustomed  to  all  rash  and  intrepid  adventure  during 
this  summer,  it  was  nothing  for  her  to  unmoor  a  boat,  en 
ter  it,  and  lift  the  oars,  not  pausing  to  observe  that  it  was 
the  Arrow.  Just  then,  however,  a  little  wind  ruffled  down 
and  shook  the  sail,  a  wind  not  quite  favorable,  but  in  which 
she  could  tack  across  and  back ;  she  drew  in  the  oars,  put 
to  the  proof  all  her  new  boat-craft,  and  recklessly  dashed 
through  the  dark  element  that  curled  and  seethed  about 
her.  She  had  to  make  but  two  tacks  in  that  hour's  im 
petuous  progress,  before  the  house  rose,  as  it  had  fre 
quently  done  before,  glooming  at  but  a  few  rods'  distance, 
and  loading  with  odorous  breath  the  air  that  tossed  its 
vines  ere  stealing  across  the  lake.  She  trembled  now, 
and  remembered  that  she  alone  of  all  the  party  had  al 
ways  unconsciously  evaded  entering  Mr.  Ealeigh's  house, 
had  never  seen  the  house  nearer  than  now,  and  never 
been  its  guest.  It  was  entering  some  dark,  unknown 
place ;  it  was  to  intrude  on  a  sacred  region.  But  the 
breeze  hurried  her  along  while  she  thought,  and  the  next 
moment  the  keel  was  buried  in  the  sand.  There  was  no 
time  to  lose ;  she  left  the  boat,  ascended  a  flight  of  stone 
steps  close  at  hand,  and  was  in  the  garden.  Low,  ripe 
greenery  was  waving  over  her  here,  deep  alluring  shadows 
opening  around,  full  fresh  fragrance  fanning  idly  to  and 
fro  and  stealing  her  soul  away.  Beyond,  the  lake  gleamed 
darkly,  the  water  lapped  gently,  the  wind  sighed  and  fell 
like  a  fluttering  breath.  She  would  have  lingered  for 
ever,  —  she  dared  not  linger  a  moment.  She  brushed 
the  dew  from  the  heavy  blossoms  as  she  swept  on,  then 
the  drenching  branches  swayed  and  closed  behind  her; 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  271 

she  found  a  door  ajar,  and  hastily  entered  the  first  room 
which  appeared. 

There  were  stray  starbeams  in  this  apartment;  her 
eyes  were  accustomed  to  the  gloom ;  she  could  dimly 
discern  the  great  book-cases  lining  the  wall,  —  an  an 
tique  chair,  —  the  glittering  key-board  of  a  grand-piano 
that  stood  apart,  yet  thrilling  perhaps  with  recent  harmo 
nies, —  a  colossal  head  of  Antinoiis,  that  self-involved 
dreamer,  stone-entranced  in  a  calm  of  passion.  She  had 
been  feverishly  agitated;  but  as  this  white  silence  dawned 
upon  her,  so  strong,  yet  voluptuous,  never  sad,  making  in 
its  masque  of  marble  one  intense  moment  eternal,  some  of 
the  same  power  spread  soothingly  over  her.  She  paused 
a  moment  to  gather  the  thronging  thoughts.  How  still  the 
room  was!  She  had  not  known  that  music  was  at  his 
command  before.  How  sweet  the  air  that  blew  in  at  the 
window !  what  late  flowers  bore  such  pungent  balm  ? 
That  portrait  leaning  half-startled  from  the  frame,  was 
it  his  mother  ?  These  books,  were  they  the  very  ones 
that  had  fed  his  youth  ?  How  everything  was  yet  warm 
from  his  touch !  how  his  presence  yet  lingered !  how 
much  of  his  life  had  passed  into  the  dim  beauty  of  the 
place!  How  each  fresh  waft  from  the  blooms  without 
came  drowned  in  fine  perfume,  laden  with  delicious  lan 
guor  !  What  heaven  was  there  !  and,  ah !  what  heaven 
was  yet  possible  there ! 

Something  that  had  flitted  from  the  table  in  the  draught, 
and  had  hovered  here  and  there  along  the  floor,  now  lay 
at  her  foot ;  she  caught  it  absently ;  it  was  her  letter.  To 
snatch  it  from  its  envelope,  and  so  tear  it  the  more  easily 
to  atoms,  was  her  first  thought;  but  as  suddenly  she 
paused.  Was  it  hers?  Though  written  and  sealed  by 
her  hand,  had  she  any  longer  possession  therein  ?  Had 


272  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

she  more  rule  over  it  than  over  any  other  letter  that 
might  be  in  the  room  ?  Absurd  refinement  of  honor ! 
She  broke  the  seal.  Yet  stay!  Was  there  no  justice 
due  to  him  ?  That  letter  which  had  been  read  long  be 
fore  the  intended  time,  whose  delivery  any  accident  might 
have  frustrated,  whose  writer  might  have  recalled  it,  — 
did  it  demand  no  magnanimity  of  reply  on  her  part? 
Had  he  now  no  claim  to  the  truth  from  her?  As  she 
knew  what  he  never  would  have  told  her  an  hour  later, 
had  she  authority  to  recede  from  the  position  she  had 
taken  in  response,  simply  because  she  could  and  he  could 
not  ?  Should  she  ignobly  refuse  him  his  right  ? 

Whether  this  were  a  sophism  of  sin  or  the  logic  of 
highest  virtue,  she,  who  would  have  blotted  out  her  writ 
ing  with  her  heart's  blood,  did  not  wait  to  weigh. 

"  To  him,  also,  I  owe  a  duty !  "  she  exclaimed,  dropped 
the  letter  where  she  had  found  it,  and  fled,  —  fled,  hurry 
ing  through  all  the  bewildering  garden-walks,  down  from 
the  fragrance,  the  serenity,  the  bowery  seclusion,  from  all 
this  conspiring  loveliness  that  tempted  her  to  dally  and 
commanded  her  to  stay,  —  fled  from  this  dream  of  pas 
sion,  this  region  of  joy,  —  fled  forever,  as  she  thought, 
out  into  the  wide,  chill,  lonely  night. 

Pushing  off  the  boat  and  springing  in,  once  more  the 
water  curled  beneath  the  parting  prow,  and  she  shot  with 
her  flashing  sail  and  hissing  wake  heedlessly,  like  a  phan 
tom,  past  another  boat  that  was  making  more  slowly  in  to 
shore. 

"This  way,  Helen,"  murmurs  a  subdued  voice.  "There 
are  some  steps,  Mr.  Laudersdale.  Here  we  are ;  but  it 's 
dark  as  Erebus.  Give  me  your  hand  ;  I  'm  half  afraid  ; 
after  that  spectre  that  walked  the  water  just  now,  these 
shadows  are  not  altogether  agreeable.  There 's  the  door, 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  273 

—  careful  housekeeper,  this  Mr.  Raleigh  !    I  wonder  what 
McLean  would  say.     Don't  believe  he  'd  like  it." 

"  What  made  you  come,  then  ?  "  asks  Helen,  as  they 
step  within. 

"  Oh,  just  for  the  frolic ;  it  was  getting  stupid,  too.  I 
suppose  we  've  ruined  our  dresses.  But  there  !  we  must 
hurry  and  get  back,,  I  did  n't  think  it  would  take  so 
long.  He  can't  manage  a  boat  so  well  as  Roger,"  adds 
Mrs.  McLean,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Goodness  !  "  exclaims  Helen.  "  I  can't  see  an  inch 
of  the  way.  We  shall  certainly  deal  devastation." 

"  I  've  been  exploring  a  mantel-shelf ;  here  's  a  candle, 
but  how  to  light  it  ?  Have  n't  you  a  match,  Mr.  Lau- 
dersdale?" 

That  gentleman  produces  one  from  a  little  pocket-safe ; 
it  proves  a  failure,  —  and  so  a  second,  and  a  third. 

"  This  is  the  last,  Mrs.  McLean.  Have  your  candle 
ready." 

The  little  jet  of  flame  flashes  up. 

"  Quick,  Helen  !  a  scrap  of  paper,  quick !  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  find  any.  Here  's  a  billet  on 
the  floor ;  tGe  seal's  broken  ;  Mr.  Raleigh  don't  read  his 
letters,  you  know  ;  shall  I  take  it  ?  " 

"  Anything,  yes  !  My  fingers  are  burning  !  Quick, 
it's  the  last  match!  There!" 

Helen  waves  a  tiny  flambeau,  the  candle  is  lighted,  the 
flame  whirled  down  upon  the  hearth  and  trodden  out. 

"  I  ^wonder  what  it  was,  though,"  adds  Mrs.  McLean, 
stooping  over  it.  "  Some  of  our  correspondence.  No 
matter,  then.  Now  for  that  Indian  mail.  Here,  —  no, 

—  this  must  be  it.     '  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh,'  — l  Roger  Ra 
leigh,  Esq.,'  —  that 's  not  it,     l  Day,  Knight,  &  Co.,  for 
Roger  Raleigh.'      Why,  Mr.  Laudersdale,  that 's  your 

12*  R 


274  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

firm.  Aren't  you  the  Co.  there?  Ah,  here  it  is, — 
'Mrs.  Catherine  McLean,  care  of  Mr.  Roger  Raleigh/ 
Does  n't  that  look  handsomely,  Helen  ?  "  contemplating 
it  with  newly  married  satisfaction. 

"  Now  you  have  it,  come  ! "  urges  Helen. 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  must  find  that  Turkish  tobacco,  to 
reward  Mr.  Laudersdale  for  his  hejoic  exertions  in  our 
behalf." 

Mr.  Laudersdale,  somewhat  fastidious  and  given  to 
rigid  etiquette,  looks  as  if  the  exertions  would  be  best 
rewarded  by  haste.  Mrs.  McLean  takes  the  candle  in 
hand  and  proceeds  on  a  tour  of  the  apartment. 

"  There  !  is  n't  this  the  article  ?  John  says  it 's  pitiful 
stuff,  not  to  be  compared  with  Virginia  leaf.  Look  at 
this  meerschaum,  Mr.  Laudersdale  ;  there 's  an  ensample. 
Prettily  colored,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Now  are  you  coming  ?  "  asks  Helen. 

"Would  you?  We've  never  been  here  without  my 
worshipful  cousin  before  ;  I  should  like  to  investigate  his 
domestic  arrangements.  Needle  and  thread.  Now  what 
do  you  suppose  he  is  doing  with  needle  and  thread  ?  Oh, 

it 's  that  little  lacework  that  Mrs. Sketches !  I 

wonder  whom  he 's  sketching.  You,  Helen  ?  Me  ?  Up 
side  down,  of  course.  No,  it 's •  Yes,  we  may  as 

well  go.  Come ! " 

And  in  the  same  breath  Mrs.  McLean  blows  out  the 
candle  and  precedes  them.  Mr.  Laudersdale  scorns  to 
secure  the  sketch ;  and  holding  back  the  boughs  for  Miss 
Heath,  and  assisting  her  down  the  steps,  quietly  follows. 

Meantime,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  has  reached  her  point  of 
departure  again,  has  stolen  up  out  of  the  white  fog  now 
gathering  over  the  lake,  slipped  into  her  former  place, 
and  found  all  nearly  as  before.  The  candles  had  been 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  275 

taken  away,  so  that  light  came  merely  from  the  hall  and 
doorways.  Some  of  the  guests  were  in  the  brilliant  din 
ing-room,  some  in  the  back-parlor.  Mr.  Raleigh,  while 
Fate  was  thus  busying  herself  about  him,  still  sat  motion 
less,  one  hand  upon  the  sofa's  side,  one  on  the  back,  little 
Rite  still  sleeping  on  his  knee.  Capua  came  and  ex 
changed  a  few  words  with  his  master ;  then  the  colored 
nurse  stepped  through  the  groups,  sought  the  child,  and 
carried  her  away,  head  and  arms  hanging  heavy  with 
slumber.  Still  Mr.  Raleigh  did  not  move.  Mrs.  Laud- 
ersdale  stood  in  the  window,  vivid  and  glowing.  There 
were  no  others  in  the  room. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  McLean?"  asked  Mary  Purcell  at 
the  door,  after  the  charade  in  which  she  had  been  engaged 
was  concluded. 

"  Gone  across  the  lake  with  Nell  and  Mr.  Laudersdale 
for  a  letter,"  replied  Master  Fred  Heath,  who  had  re 
turned  that  afternoon  from  the  counting-room,  with  his 
employer,  and  now  sauntered  by. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  started;  she  had  not  escaped  too  early; 
but  then Her  heart  was  beating  in  her  throat. 

"  What  letter  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Heath,  with  amiable  cu 
riosity,  as  she  joined  them. 

"  Do  you  know  what  letter,  Mr.  Raleigh  ?  " 

"  One  from  India,  Madame,"  was  his  response. 

"  Strange !  Helen  gone  without  permission !  What 
was  in  the  letter,  I  wonder.  Do  you  know  what  was  in 
the  letter,  Mr.  Raleigh  ?  " 

"  Congratulations,  and  a  recommendation  of  Mrs.  Mc 
Lean's  cousin  to  her  good  graces,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  Helen's,  then  ?  " 

« No."  9 

"  My  young  gentleman 's  not  in  good  humor  to-night," 


276  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

whispered  Mrs.  Heath  to  Miss  Purcell,  with  a  significant 
nod,  and  moving  off. 

"  How  did  you  know  what  was  in  Mrs.  McLean's  letter, 
sir  ?  "  asked  Mary  Purcell. 

"  I  conjectured.  In  Mrs.  Heath's  place,  I  should  have 
known." 

"  There  they  come !  —  you  can  always  tell  Mrs.  Mc 
Lean's  laugh.  You  've  lost  all  the  charades,  Helen ! " 

They  came  in,  very  gay,  and  seemed  at  once  to  arouse 
an  airier  and  finer  spirit  among  the  humming  clusters. 
Mr.  Laudersdale  did  not  join  his  wife,  but  sat  on  the 
piazza  talking  with  Mr.  McLean.  People  were  looking 
at  an  herbal,  others  coquetting,  others  quiet.  Some  one 
mentioned  music.  Directly  afterward,  Mr.  Raleigh  rose 
and  approached  the  piano.  Every  one  turned.  Taking 
his  seat,  he  threw  out  a  handful  of  rich  chords ;  the  in 
strument  seemed  to  diffuse  a  purple  cloud  ;  then,  buoyed 
over  perfect  accompaniment,  the  voice  rose  in  that  one 
love-song  of  the  world.  What  depth  of  tenderness  is 
there  from  which  the  Adelaide  does  not  sound  ?  What 
secret  of  tragedy,  too  ?  Singing,  he  throbbed  through  it  a 
vitality  as  if  the  melody  surcharged  with  beauty  grew 
from  his  soul  and  were  his  breath  of  life  indeed.  The 
thrilling  strain  came  to  penetrate  and  fill  one  heart ;  the 
passionate  despair  surged  round  her ;  the  silence  follow 
ing  was  like  the  hand  that  closes  the  eyes  of  the  dead. 

Mr.  Raleigh  did  not  rise,  nor  look  up,  as  he  finished. 

"  How  melancholy  !  "  said  Helen  Heath,  breaking  the 
hush. 

"  All  music  should  be  melancholy,"  said  he. 

"  How  absurd,  Roger  ! "  said  his  cousin.  "  There  is 
mu^h  music  that  is  only  intensely  beautiful." 

"  Intense  beauty  at  its  height  always  drops  in  pathos, 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  277 

or  rather  the  soul  does  in  following  it,  —  since  that  is 
infinite,  the  soul  finite." 

"  Nonsense !  There 's  that  song,  Number  Three  in 
Book  One  —  " 

"  I  don't  remember  it." 

"  Well,  there's  no  pathos  there  !  It's  just  one  trill  of 
laughter  and  merriment,  a  sunbeam  and  effect.  Play  it, 
Helen." 

Helen  went,  and,  extending  her  hands  before  Mr. 
Raleigh,  played  a  couple  of  bars  ;  he  continued  where 
she  left  it,  as  one  might  a  dream,  and,  strangely  enough, 
the  little,  gushing  sparkle  of  joy  became  a  phantom  of 
itself,  dissolving  away  in  tears. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  McLean,  "  you  can  make 
mouths  in  a  glass,  if  you  please  ;  but  I,  for  one,  detest 
melancholy  !  Don't  you,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  ? " 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  had  shrunk  into  the  shadow  of  the 
curtain.  Perhaps  she  did  not  hear  the  question  ;  for  her 
reply,  that  did  not  come  at  once,  was  the  fragment  of  a 
Provencal  romance,  sung,  —  and  sung  in  a  voice  neither 
sweet  nor  rich,  but  of  a  certain  personal  force  as  potent 
as  either  quality,  and  a  stifled  strength  of  tone  that  made 
one  tremble. 

We  're  all  alone,  we  're  all  alone ! 
The  moon  and  stars  are  dead  and  gone, 
The  night 's  at  deep,  the  winds  asleep, 
And  thou  and  I  are  all  alone ! 

What  care  have  we,  though  life  there  be  ? 
Tumult  and  life  are  not  for  me ! 
Silence  and  sleep  about  us  creep : 
Tumult  and  life  are  not  for  thee ! 

How  late  it  is  since  such  as  this 

Had  topped  the  height  of  breathing  bliss ! 

And  now  we  keep  an  iron  sleep,  — 

In  that  grave  thou,  and  I  in  this ! 


278  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Her  voice  yet  shivered  through  the  room,  he  struck  a 
chord  of  dead  conclusion,  the  curtain  stirred,  she  emerged 
from  the  gloom  and  was  gone. 

Mr.  Raleigh  rose  and  bade  his  cousin  good  night. 
Mrs.  McLean,  however,  took  his  arm  and  sauntered  with 
him  down  the  lawn. 

"  I  thought  Capua  came  with  you,"  she  remarked. 

"  He  returned  in  a  spare  wherry,  some  time  since,"  he 
replied  ;  and  thereon  they  made  a  few  paces  in  silence. 

"  Roger,"  said  the  little  lady,  taking  breath  preparatory 
to  wasting  it,  "  I  thought  Helen  was  a  coquette.  I  Ve 
changed  my  mind.  The  fault  is  yours." 

He  turned  and  looked  down  at  her  with  some  sur 
prise. 

"  You  know  we  have  n't  much  more  time,  and  cer 
tainly —  " 

"Kate!" 

"  Yes,  —  don't  scold  !  —  and  if  you  are  going  to  pro 
pose,  I  really  think  you  ought  to,  or  else  — " 

"  You  think  I  ought  to  marry  Miss  Heath  ?  " 

«  Why  —  I  —  well  —  Oh,  dear  !  I  wish  I  had  held 
my  peace ! " 

"  That  might  have  been  advisable." 

"  Don't  be  offended  now,  Roger !  " 

"  Is  there  any  reason  to  suppose  her  —  to  suppose 
me  —  " 

"  Yes,  there  !  "  replied  Mrs.  McLean,  desperately. 

He  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  Good  God,  Kate ! "  said  he,  then,  clasping  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  and  looking  up  the  deep  transparence  of 
the  unanswering  night.  "  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  life 
don't  last  forever!" 

"  But  it  does,  Roger,"  she  uttered  under  her  breath,  — 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  279 

terrified  at  kis  abrupt  earnestness,  and  unwitting  what 
storm  she  had  aroused. 

"The  formula  changes,"  he  replied,  with  his  old  air, 
and  retracing  their  steps. 

The  guests  were  all  gone.  Helen  Heath  was  eating 
an  ice ;  he  bent  over  her  chair  and  said,  — 

"  Good  night,  Miss  Helen  ! " 

"  Oh,  good  night,  Mr.  Raleigh!  You  are  going  ?  Well, 
we  're  all  going  soon.  What  a  glorious  summer  it  has 
been  !  Are  n't  you  sorry  we  must  part  ?  " 

"  Why  must  we  part  ? "  he  asked  in  a  lower  tone. 
"  Where  is  the  necessity  of  our  parting  ?  Why  won't  you 
stay  forever,  Helen  ?  " 

She  turned  and  surveyed  him  quickly,  while  a  red  — 
whether  of  joy  or  anger  he  could  not  tell  —  flashed  up  her 
cheek. 

"  Do  you  mean  —  " 

"  Miss  Heath,  I  mean,  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Raleigh,  no  !  " 

With  a  bow  he  passed  on. 

Mr.  Raleigh  trimmed  the  Arrow's  sail,  for  the  breeze 
had  sunk  again,  and  swept  slowly  out  with  one  oar  sus 
pended.  A  waning  moon  was  rising  behind  the  trees,  it 
fell  upon  the  little  quay  that  had  been  built  that  summer, 
and  seemed  with  its  hollow  beams  still  to  continue  the 
structure  upon  the  water.  The  Arrow  floated  in  the 
shadow  just  beyond.  Mr.  Raleigh's  eyes  were  on  the 
quay ;  he  paused,  nerveless,  both  oars  trailing,  a  cold 
damp  starting  on  his  forehead.  Some  one  approached 
as  if  looking  out  upon  the  dim  sheet,  —  some  one  who, 
deceived  by  the  false  light,  did  not  know  the  end  to  be  so 
near,  and  walked  forward  firmly  and  confidently.  Indeed, 
the  quay  had  been  erected  in  Mr.  Laudersdale's  absence. 
The  water  was  deep  there,  the  bottom  rocky. 


280  MIDSUMMEK  AND  MAY. 

"  Shout  and  warn  him  of  his  peril !  "  urged  a  voice  in 
Mr.  Raleigh's  heart. 

"  Let  him  drown  !  "  urged  another  voice. 

If  he  would  have  called,  the  sound  died  a  murmur  in 
his  throat.  His  eyes  were  on  the  advancing  figure ;  it 
seemed  as  if  that  object  were  to  be  forever  stamped  upon 
the  retina.  Still  as  he  gazed,  he  was  aware  of  another 
form,  one  sitting  on  the  quay,  unseen  in  shadow  like  him 
self,  and  seeing  what  he  saw,  and  motionless  as  he.  Would 
Mrs.  Laudersdale  dip  her  hands  in  murder?  It  all  passed 
in  a  second  of  time ;  at  the  next  breath  he  summoned 
every  generous  power  in  his  body,  sprang  with  the  leap 
of  a  wild  creature,  and  confronted  the  recoiling  man.  Ere 
his  foot  touched  the  quay,  the  second  form  had  glided  from 
the  darkness,  and  seized  her  husband's  arm. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  then.  "I 
thought  you  were  in  danger.  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  good 
night ! " 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  regain  the  boat,  to  gather  up 
his  oars,  and  shoot  away.  Till  they  faded  from  sight,  he 
saw  her  still  beside  him ;  and  so  they  stood  till  the  last 
echo  of  the  dipping  oars  was  muffled  in  distance  and  lost. 

Summer-nights  are  brief;  breakfast  was  late  on  the 
next  morning,  —  or  rather,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  was  late,  as 
usual,  to  partake  it. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  some  news  ?  "  asked  Helen  Heath. 

She  lifted  her  heavy  eyes  absently. 

"  Mrs.  McLean  has  made  her  husband  a  millionnaire. 
There  was  an  Indian  mail  yesterday.  Mr.  Raleigh  read 
his  letters  last  night,  after  going  home.  His  uncle  is  dy 
ing, — old,  unfortunate,  forlorn.  He  has  abandoned  every 
thing,  and  must  hew  his  own  way  in  the  world  from  this 
day  forward.  Mr.  Raleigh  left  this  morning  for  India." 


MIDSUMMEE  AND  MAY.  281 

When  you  saw  Mrs.  Laudersdale  for  the  first  time,  at 
a  period  thirteen  years  later,  would  you  have  imagined 
her  possessed  of  this  little  drama  ?  You  fancy  now  that 
in  this  flash  all  the  wealth  of  her  soul  burned  out  and  left 
her  a  mere  volition  and  motive  power?  You  are  mis 
taken,  as  I  said. 

II. 

WHEN  Miss  Kent,  the  maternal  great-aunt  of  Mr.  Ka- 
leigh,  devised  her  property,  the  will  might  possibly  have 
been  set  aside  as  that  of  a  monomaniac,  but  for  the  fact 
that  he  cared  too  little  about  anything  to  go  to  law  for  it, 
and  for  the  still  more  important  fact  that  the  heirs-at-law 
were  sufficiently  numerous  to  ingulf  the  whole  property 
and  leave  no  ripple  to  attest  its  submerged  existence,  had 
he  done  so  ;  and  on  deserting  it,  he  was  better  pleased  to 
enrich  the  playfellow  of  his  childhood  than  a  host  of  un 
known  and  unloved  individuals.  I  cannot  say  that  he  did 
not  more  than  once  regret  what  he  had  lost :  he  was  not 
of  a  self-denying  nature,  as  we  know ;  on  the  contrary, 
luxurious  and  accustomed  to  all  those  delights  of  life  gen 
erally  to  be  procured  only  through  wealth.  But,  for  all 
that,  there  had  been  intervals,  ere  his  thirteen  years'  exile 
ended,  in  which,  so  far  from  regret,  he  experienced  a  cer 
tain  joy  at  remembrance  of  this  rough  and  rugged  point 
of  time  where  he  had  escaped  from  the  chrysalid  state  to 
one  of  action  and  freedom  and  real  life.  He  had  been 
happy  in  reaching  India  before  his  uncle's  death,  in  ap 
plying  his  own  clear  understanding  to  the  intricate  entan 
glements  of  the  affairs  before  him,  in  rescuing  his  uncle's 
commercial  good  name,  and  in  securing  thus  for  himself  a 
foothold  on  the  ladder  of  life,  although  that  step  had  not 


282  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

occurred  to  him  till  thrust  there  by  the  pressure  of  cir 
cumstances.  For  the  rest,  I  am  not  sure  that  Mr.  Raleigh 
did  not  find  his  path  suiting  him  well  enough.  There  was 
no  longer  any  charm  in  home ;  he  was  forbidden  to  think 
of  it.  That  strange  summer,  that  had  flashed  into  his  life 
like  the  gleam  of  a  carnival-torch  into  quiet  rooms,  must 
be  forgotten  ;  the  forms  that  had  peopled  it,  in  his  deter 
mination,  should  become  shadows.  Valiant  vows !  Yet 
there  must  have  come  moments,  in  that  long  lapse  of  days 
and  years,  when  the  whole  season  gathered  up  its  gar 
ments  and  swept  imperiously  through  his  memory:  nights, 
when  under  the  shadow  of  the  Himmaleh,  the  old  passion 
rose  at  spring-tide  and  flooded  his  heart  and  drowned  out 
forgetfulness,  and  a  longing  asserted  itself,  that,  if  checked 
as  instantly  by  honor  as  despair,  was  none  the  less  insuf 
ferable  and  full  of  pain,  —  warm,  wide,  Southern  nights, 
when  all  the  stars,  great  and  golden,  leaned  out  of  heaven 
to  meet  him,  and  all  ripe  perfumes,  wafted  by  their  own 
principle  of  motion,  floated  in  the  rich  dusk  and  laden  air 
about  him,  and  the  phantom  of  snow  on  topmost  heights 
sought  vainly  to  lend  him  its  calm.  Days  also  must  have 
showered  their  fervid  sunshine  on  him,  as  he  journeyed 
through  plains  of  rice,  where  all  the  broad  reaches  whit 
ening  to  harvest  filled  him  with  intense  and  bitterest  lone 
liness.  What  region  of  spice  did  not  recall  the  noons  when 
they  two  had  trampled  the  sweet-fern  on  wide,  high  New 
England  pastures,  and  breathed  its  intoxicating  fragrance? 
and  what  forest  of  the  tropics,  what  palms,  what  blooms, 
what  gorgeous  affluence  of  color  and  of  growth,  equalled 
the  wood  on  the  lake-shores,  with  its  stately  hemlocks,  its 
joyous  birches,  its  pale-blue,  shadow-blanched  violets  ? 
2STor  was  this  regret,  that  had  at  last  become  a  part  of 
the  man's  identity,  entirely  a  selfish  one.  He  had  no  au- 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  283 

thority  whatever  for  his  belief,  yet  believe  he  did,  that, 
firmly  and  tenderly  as  he  loved,  he  was  loved,  and  of  the 
two  fates  his  was  not  the  harder.  But  a  man,  a  man,  too, 
in  the  stir  of  the  world,  has  not  the  time  for  brooding  over 
the  untoward  events  of  his  destiny  that  a  woman  has  ;  his 
tender  memories  are  forever  jostled  by  cent  per  cent ;  he 
meets  too  many  faces  to  keep  the  one  in  constant  and  un 
changing  perpetuity  sacredly  before  his  thought.  And  so 
it  happened  that  Mr.  Raleigh  became  at  last  a  silent,  keen- 
eyed  man,  with  the  shadow  of  old  and  enduring  melancholy 
on  his  life,  but  with  no  certain  sorrow  there. 

In  the  course  of  time  his  business  connections  extended 
themselves ;  he  was  associated  with  other  men  more  in 
tent  than  he  upon  their  aim ;  although  not  wealthy,  years 
might  make  him  so ;  his  name  commanded  respect.  Some 
thing  of  his  old  indifference  lingered  about  him ;  it  was  sel 
dom  that  he  was  in  earnest ;  he  drifted  with  the  tide,  and 
except  to  maintain  a  clear  integrity  before  God  and  men 
and  his  own  soul,  exerted  scarcely  an  effort.  It  was  not 
an  easy  thing  for  him  to  break  up  any  manner  of  life ; 
and  when  it  became  necessary  for  one  of  the  firm  to  visit 
America,  and  he  as  the  most  suitable  was  selected,  he  as 
sented  to  the  proposition  with  not  a  heart-beat.  America 
was  as  flat  a  wilderness  to  him  as  the  Desert  of  Sahara. 
On  landing  in  India,  he  had  felt  like  a  semi-conscious 
sleeper  in  his  dream,  the  country  seemed  one  of  phan 
tasms  ;  the  Lascars  swarming  in  the  port,  —  the  mer 
chants  wrapped  in  snowy  muslins,  who  moved  like  white- 
robed  bronzes  faintly  animate, — the  strange  faces,  modes, 
and  manners,  —  the  stranger  beasts,  immense,  and  alien 
to  his  remembrance ;  all  objects  that  crossed  his  vision 
had  seemed  -  like  a  series  of  fantastic  shows ;  he  could 
have  imagined  them  to  be  the  creations  of  a  heated 


284  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

fancy  or  the  weird  deceits  of  some  subtle  draught  of 
magic.  But  now  they  had  become  more  his  life  than 
the  scenes  which  he  had  left ;  this  land  with  its  heats 
and  its  languors  had  slowly  and  passively  endeared  it 
self  to  him ;  these  perpetual  summers,  the  balms  and 
blisses  of  the  South,  had  unconsciously  become  a  need 
of  his  nature.  One  day  all  was  ready  for  his  depart 
ure  ;  and  in  the  clipper  ship  Osprey,  with  a  cargo  for 
Day,  Knight,  and  Company,  Mr.  Raleigh  bade  farewell 
to  India. 

The  Osprey  was  a  swift  sailer  and  handled  with  con 
summate  skill,  so  that  I  shall  not  venture  to  say  in  how 
few  days  she  had  weathered  the  Cape,  and,  ploughing  up 
the  Atlantic,  had  passed  the  Windward  Islands,  and  off 
the  latter  had  encountered  one  of  the  severest  gales  in 
Captain  Tarbell's  remembrance,  although  he  was  not  new 
to  shipwreck.  If  Mr.  Raleigh  had  found  no  time  for  re 
flection  in  the  busy  current  of  affairs,  when,  ceasing  to 
stand  aside,  he  had  mingled  in  the  turmoil  and  become  a 
part  of  the  generations  of  men,  he  could  not  fail  to  find  it 
in  this  voyage,  not  brief  at  best,  and  of  which  every  day's 
progress  must  assure  him  anew  toward  what  land  and 
what  people  he  was  hastening.  Moreover,  Fate  had 
woven  his  lot,  it  seemed,  inextricably  among  those  whom 
he  would  shun  ;  for  Mr.  Laudersdale  himself  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  Osprey's  freight,  and  it  would  be  incum 
bent  upon  him  to  extend  his  civilities  to  Mr.  Raleigh. 
But  Mr.  Raleigh  was  not  one  to  be  cozened  by  circum 
stances  more  than  by  men. 

The  severity  of  the  gale,  which  they  had  met  some 
three  days  since,  had  entirely  abated ;  the  ship  was  laid 
to  while  the  slight  damage  sustained  was  undergoing  re 
pair,  and  rocked  heavily  beneath  the  gray  sky  on  the  long, 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  285 

sullen  swell  and  roll  of  the  grayer  waters.  Mr.  Raleigh 
had  just  come  upon  deck  at  dawn,  where  he  found  every 
one  in  unaccountable  commotion.  "  Ship  to  leeward  in 
distress,"  was  all  the  answer  his  inquiries  could  obtain, 
while  the  man  on  the  topmast  was  making  his  observa 
tions.  Mr.  Raleigh  could  see  nothing,  but  every  now  and 
then  the  boom  of  a  gun  came  faintly  over  the  distance. 
The  report  having  been  made,  it  was  judged  expedient  to 
lower  a  boat  and  render  her  such  assistance  as  was  pos 
sible.  Mr.  Raleigh  never  could  tell  how  it  came  to  pass 
that  he  found  himself  one  of  the  volunteers  in  this  dan 
gerous  service. 

The  disabled  vessel  proved  to  be  a  schooner  from  the 
West  Indies  in  a  sinking  condition.  A  few  moments  suf 
ficed  to  relieve  a  portion  of  her  passengers,  sad  wretches 
who  for  two  days  had  stared  death  in  the  face,  and  they 
pulled  back  toward  the  Osprey.  A  second  and  third 
journey  across  the  waste,  and  the  remaining  men  pre 
pared  to  lower  the  last  woman  into  the  boat,  when  a 
stout,  but  extremely  pale  individual,  who  could  no  longer 
contain  his  frenzy  of  fear,  clambered  down  the  chains  and 
dropped  in  her  place.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and 
nothing  to  do  but  submit ;  the  woman  was  withdrawn  to 
wait  her  turn  with  the  captain  and  crew,  and  the  laden 
boat  again  labored  back  to  the  ship.  Each  trip  in  the 
heavy  sea  and  the  blinding  rain  occupied  no  less  than  a 
couple  of  hours,  and  it  was  past  noon  when,  uncertain  just 
before  if  she  might  yet  be  there,  they  again  came  within 
sight  of  the  little  schooner,  slowly  and  less  slowly  settling 
to  her  doom.  As  they  approached  her  at  last,  Mr.  Ra 
leigh  could  plainly  detect  the  young  woman  standing  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  anxious  group,  leaning  against  the 
broken  mast  with  crossed  arms,  and  looking  out  over  the 


286  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

weary  stretch  with  pale,  grave  face  and  quiet  eyes.  At 
the  motion  of  the  captain,  she  stepped  forward,  bound  the 
ropes  about  herself,  and  was  swung  over  the  side  to  await 
the  motion  of  the  boat,  as  it  slid  within  reach  on  the  top 
of  the  long  wave,  or  receded  down  its  shining,  slippery 
hollow.  At  length  one  swell  brought  it  nearer,  Mr.  Ra 
leigh's  arms  snatched  the  slight  form  and  drew  her  half- 
fainting  into  the  boat,  a  cloak  was  tossed  after,  and  one  by 
one  the  remainder  followed ;  they  were  all  safe,  and  some 
beggared.  The  bows  of  the  schooner  already  plunged 
deep  down  in  the  gaping  gulfs,  they  pulled  bravely 
away,  and  were  tossed  along  from  billow  to  billow. 

"You  are  very  uncomfortable,  Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc?" 
asked  the  rescued  captain  at  once  of  the  young  woman,  as 
she  sat  beside  him  in  the  stern-sheets. 

"  Moi  ?  "  she  replied.     "  Mais  non,  Monsieur." 

Mr.  Raleigh  wrapped  the  cloak  about  her,  as  she  spoke. 
They  were  equidistant  from  the  two  vessels,  neither  of 
which  was  to  be  seen,  the  rain  fell  fast  into  the  hissing 
brine,  their  fate  still  uncertain.  There  was  something 
strangely  captivating  and  reassuring  in  this  young  girl's 
equanimity,  and  he  did  not  cease  speculating  thereon  till 
they  had  again  reached  the  Osprey,  and  she  had  disap 
peared  below. 

By  degrees  the  weather  lightened ;  the  Osprey  was  on 
the  wing  again,  and  a  week's  continuance  of  this  fair  wind 
would  bring  them  into  port.  The  next  day,  toward  sun 
set,  as  Mr.  Raleigh  turned  about  in  his  regular  pacing 
of  the  deck,  he  saw,  at  its  opposite  extremity,  the  same 
slight  figure  dangerously  perched  upon  the  taffrail,  lean 
ing  over,  now  watching  the  closing  water,  and  now 
eagerly  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  to  observe  the 
ship  which  they  spoke,  as  they  lay  head  to  the  wind,  and 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  287 

for  a  better  view  of  which  she  had  climbed  to  this  posi 
tion.  It  was  not  Mr.  Raleigh's  custom  to  interfere  ;  if 
people  chose  to  drown  themselves,  he  was  not  the  man  to 
gainsay  them;  but  now,  as  his  walk  drew  him  toward 
her,  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  pause 
and  say, — 

"  11  serait  fdcheux,  Mademoiselle,  lorsqu'on  afaillifaire 
naufrage,  de  se  noyer  "  —  and,  in  want  of  a  word,  Mr. 
Raleigh  ignominiously  descended  to  his  vernacular,  — 
"with  a  lee-lurch." 

The  girl,  resting  on  the  palm  of  one  hand,  and  unsup 
ported  otherwise,  bestowed  upon  him  no  reply,  and  did 
not  turn  her  head.  Mr.  Raleigh  looked  at  her  a  moment, 
and  then  continued  his  walk.  Returning,  the  thing  hap 
pened  as  he  had  predicted,  and,  with  a  little  quick  cry, 
Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc  was  hanging  by  her  hands  among 
the  ropes.  Reaching  her  with  a  spring,  "  Viens,  petite  !  " 
he  said,  and  with  an  effort  placed  her  on  her  feet  again 
before  an  alarm  could  have  been  given. 

"  Ah !  mais  fai  cm  que  e'en  etait  fait  de  moi  I "  she 
exclaimed,  drawing  in  her  breath  like  a  sob.  In  an  in 
stant,  however,  surveying  Mr.  Raleigh,  the  slight  emotion 
seemed  to  yield  to  one  of  irritation,  that  she  had  been 
rescued  by  him ;  for  she  murmured  quickly,  in  English, 
head  haughtily  thrown  back  and  eyes  downcast, — "Mon 
sieur  thinks  that  I  owe  him  much  for  having  saved  m'y 
life ! " 

"  Mademoiselle  best  knows  its  worth,"  said  he,  rather 
amused,  and  turning  away. 

The  girl  was  still  looking  down ;  now,  however,  she 
threw  after  him  a  quick  glance. 

"  Tenez  I  "  said  she,  imperiously,  and  stepping  toward 
him.  "You  fancy  me  very  ungrateful,"  she  continued, 


288  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

lifting  her  slender  hand,  and  with  the  back  of  it  brushing 
away  the  floating  hair  at  her  temples.  "  Well,  I  am  not, 
and  at  some  time  it  may  be  that  I  prove  it.  I  do  not  like 
to  owe  debts ;  but,  since  I  must,  I  will  not  try  to  cancel 
them  with  thanks/' 

Mr.  Raleigh  bowed,  but  said  nothing.  She  seemed 
to  think  it  necessary  to  efface  any  unpleasant  impres 
sion,  and,  with  a  little  more  animation  and  a  smile, 
added,  — 

"  The  Captain  Tarbell  told  me  your  name,  Mr.  Raleigh, 
and  that  you  had  not  been  at  home  for  tnirteen  years.  Ni 
moi  non  plus,  —  at  least,  I  suppose  it  is  home  where  I 
am  going ;  yet  I  remember  no  other  than  the  island  and 
my—-" 

And  here  the  girl  opened  her  eyes  wide,  as  if  deter 
mined  that  they  should  not  fill  with  tears,  and  looked  out 
over  the  blue  and  sparkling  fields  around  them.  There 
was  a  piquancy  in  her  accent  that  made  the  hearer  wish 
to  hear  further,  and  a  certain  artlessness  in  her  manner 
not  met  with  recently  by  him.  He  moved  forward,  keep 
ing  her  beside  him. 

"  Then  you  are  not  French,"  he  said. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no,  —  nor  Creole.  I  was  born  in  America ; 
but  I  have  always  lived  with  mamma  on  the  plantation  ; 
et  mamtenant,  il  y  a  six  mois  qu'elle  est  morte  !  " 

Here  she  looked  away  again.  Mr.  Raleigh's  glance 
followed  hers,  and,  returning,  she  met  it  bent  kindly  and 
with  a  certain  grave  interest  upon  her.  She  appeared  to 
feel  reassured,  somewhat  protected  by  one  so  much  her 
elder. 

"  I  am  going  now  to  my  father,"  she  said,  "  and  to  my 
other  mother." 

"  A  second  marriage,"  thought  Mr.  Raleigh,  "  and  be- 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  289 

fore  the  orphan's  crapes  are  —  "  Then,  fearful  lest  she 
should  read  his  thought,  he  added,  —  "  And  how  do  you 
speak  such  perfect  English  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  father  came  to  see  us  every  other  year,  and  I 
have  written  home  twice  a  week  since  I  was  a  little  child. 
Mamma,  too,  spoke  as  much  English  as  French." 

"  I  have  not  been  in  America  for  a  long  time,"  said  Mr. 
Raleigh,  after  a  few  steps.  "  But  I  do  not  doubt  that  you 
will  find  enjoyment  there.  It  will  be  new :  womanhood 
will  have  little  like  youth  for  you  ;  but,  in  every  event,  it 
is  well  to  add  to  our  experience,  you  know." 

"  What  is  it  like,  sir  ?  But  I  know !  Rows  of  houses, 
very  counterparts  of  rows  of  houses,  and  they  of  rows  of 
houses  yet  beyond.  Just  the  toy-villages  in  boxes,  uni 
form  as  graves  and  ugly  as  bricks  — " 

"  Brick  houses  are  not  such  ugly  things.  I  remember 
one,  low  and  wide,  possessed  of  countless  gables,  covered 
with  vines  and  shaded  with  sycamores  ;  it  could  not  have 
been  so  picturesque,  if  built  of  the  marble  of  Paros,  and 
gleaming  temple-white  through  masks  of  verdure." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I,  too,  remember  such  a  one," 
said  she,  dreamily.  "  Mais  non,  je  m'y  perds.  Yet,  for 
all  that,  I  shall  not  find  the  New  York  avenues  lined  with 
them." 

"  No  ;  the  houses  there  are  palaces." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  I  am  to  live  in  a  palace,"  she  an 
swered,  with  a  light  tinkling  laugh.  "  That  is  fine ;  but 
one  may  miss  the  verandas,  all  the  whiteness  and  cool 
ness.  How  one  must  feel  the  roof ! " 

"  Roofs  should  be  screens,  and  not  prisons,  not  shells, 
you  think  ?  "  said  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"At  home,"  she  replied,  "our  houses  are,  so  to  say, 
parasols ;  in  those  cities  they  must  be  iron  shrouds. 
13  s 


290  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Ainsi  soit  il!"  she  added,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders 
like  a  little  fatalist. 

"  You  must  not  take  it  with  such  desperation  ;  perhaps 
you  will  not  be  obliged  to  wear  the  shroud." 

"  Not  long,  to  be  sure,  at  first.  We  go  to  freeze  in  the 
country,  a  place  with  distant  hills  of  blue  ice,  my  old 
nurse  told  me,  —  old  Ursule.  Oh,  sir,  she  was  drowned ! 
I  saw  the  very  wave  that  swept  her  off!  '• 

"  That  was  your  servant  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  perhaps,  I  have  some  good  news  for  you.  She 
was  tall  and  large  ?  " 

"  Oui." 

"  Her  name  was  Ursule  ?  " 

"  Oui  !  je  dis  que  oui  !  " 

Mr.  Raleigh  laughed  at  her  eagerness. 

"  She  is  below,  then,"  he  said,  —  "  not  drowned.  There 
is  Reynolds.  Mr.  Reynolds,  will  you  take  this  young 
lady  to  her  servant,  Ursule,  the  woman  you  rescued  ? " 

And  Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc  disappeared  under  that 
gentleman's  escort. 

The  ordinary  restraints  of  social  life  not  obtaining  so 
much  on  board  ship  as  elsewhere,  Mr.  Raleigh  saw  his 
acquaintance  with  the  pale  young  stranger  fast  ripening 
into  friendliness.  It  was  an  agreeable  variation  frbm  the 
monotonous  routine  of  his  voyage,  and  he  felt  that  it  was 
not  unpleasant  to  her.  Indeed,  with  that  childlike  sim 
plicity  that  was  her  first  characteristic,  she  never  saw  him 
without  seeking  him,  and  every  morning  and  every  even 
ing  it  became  their  habit  to  pace  the  deck  together.  Sun 
rise  and  twilight  began  to  be  the  hours  with  which  he 
associated  her ;  and  it  was  strange,  that,  coming,  as  she 
did,  out  of  the  full  blaze  of  tropical  suns,  she  yet  seemed 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  291 

a  creature  that  had  taken  life  from  the  fresh,  cool,  dewy 
hours,  and  that  must  fairly  dissolve  beneath  the  sky  of  noon. 
She  puzzled  him,  besides,  and  he  found  singular  contradic 
tions  in  her  :  to-night,  sweetness  itself,  —  to-morrow,  pet 
ulant  as  a  spoiled  child.  She  had  all  a  child's  curiosity, 
too ;  and  he  amused  himself  by  seeing,  at  one  time,  with 
what  novelty  his  adventures  struck  her,  when,  at  another, 
he  would  have  fancied  she  had  always  held  Taj  and  Him- 
maleh  in  her  garden.  Now  and  then,  excited,  perhaps, 
by  emulation  and  wonder,  her  natural  joyousness  broke 
through  the  usually  sad  and  quiet  demeanor ;  and  she 
related  to  him,  with  dramatic  abandon,  scenes  of  her  gay 
and  innocent  island-life,  so  that  he  fancied  there  was  not 
an  emotion  in  her  experience  hidden  from  his  knowledge, 
till,  all-unaware,  he  tripped  over  one  reserve  and  another, 
that  made  her,  for  the  moment,  as  mysterious  a  being  as 
any  of  those  court-ladies  of  ancient  regimes,  in  whose  lives 
there  were  strange  lacuna  and  spaces  of  shadow.  And  a 
peculiarity  of  their  intercourse  was,  that,  let  her  depart  in 
what  freak  or  perversity  she  pleased,  she  seemed  always 
to  have  a  certainty  of  finding  him  in  the  same  mood  in 
which  she  had  left  him,  —  as  some  bright  wayward  vice 
of  Southern  forests  puts  out  a  tendril  to  this  or  that  en 
ticing  point,  yet,  winding  back,  will  find  its  first  support 
unchanged.  Shut  out,  as  Mr.  Raleigh  had  been,  from 
any  but  the  most  casual  female  society,  he  found  a  great 
charm  in  this  familiarity,  and,  without  thinking  how  lately 
it  had'begun  or  how  soon  it  must  cease,  he  yielded  him 
self  to  its  presence.  At  one  hour  she  seemed  to  him  an 
impetuous  and  capricious  thing,  for  whose  better  protec 
tion  the  accident  of  his  companionship  was  extremely  for 
tunate,  —  at  another  hour,  a  woman  too  strangely  sweet  to 
part  with ;  and  then  Mr.  Raleigh  remembered  that  in  all 


292  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

his  years  he  had  really  known  but  two  women,  and  one 
of  these  had  not  spent  a  week  in  his  memory. 

Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc  came  on  deck  one  evening, 
and,  wrapping  a  soft,  thick  mantle  round  her,  looked 
about  for  a  minute,  shaded  her  eyes  from  the  sunset, 
meantime,  with  a  slender,  transparent  hand,  bowed  to  one, 
spoke  to  another,  slipped  forward  and  joined  Mr.  Raleigh, 
where  he  leaned  over  the  ship's  side. 

"  Void  ma  capote  !  "  said  she,  before  he  was  aware  of 
her  approach.  "  del!  qu'il  fait  frais  !  " 

"  We  have  changed  our  skies,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh, 
looking  up. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  tell  me  that ! "  she 
replied.  "  I  shiver  all  the  time.  I  shall  become  a  little 
iceberg,  for  the  sake  of  floating  down  to  melt  off  Mar 
tinique  ! " 

"  Warm  yourself  now  in  the  sunset ;  such  a  blaze  was 
kindled  for  the  purpose." 

"  Whenever  I  see  a  sunset,  I  find  it  to  be  a  splendid 
fact,  une  jouissance  vraie,  Monsieur,  to  think  that  men  can 
paint,  —  that  these  shades,  which  are  spontaneous  in  the 
heavens,  and  fleeting,  can  be  rivalled  by  us  and  made 
permanent,  —  that  man  is  more  potent  than  light." 

"  But  you  are  all  wrong  in  -your  jouissance." 

She  pouted  her  lip,  and  hung  over  the  side  in  an 
attitude  that  it  seemed  he  had  seen  a  hundred  times 
before. 

"That  sunset,  with  all  its  breadth  and  splendor,  is 
contained  in  every  pencil  of  light." 

She  glanced  up  and  laughed. 

"  Oh,  yes !  a  part  of  its  possibilities.    Which  proves  —  ?  " 

"  That  color  is  an  attribute  of  light  and  an  achievement 
of  man." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  293 

"  Ca  et  la, 

Toute  lajourn^e, 
Le  vent  vain  va 
En  sa  tourn^e," 

hummed  the  girl,  with  a  careless  dismissal  of  the  subject. 

Mr.  Raleigh  shut  up  the  note-book  in  which  he  had 
been  writing,  and  restored  it  to  his  pocket.  She  turned 
about  and  broke  off  her  song. 

"  There  is  the  moon  on  the  other  side,"  she  said,  "  float 
ing  up  like  a  great  bubble  of  light.  She  and  the  sun  are 
the  scales  of  a  balance,  I  think ;  as  one  ascends,  the  other 
sinks." 

"  There  is  a  richness  in  the  atmosphere,  when  sunset 
melts  into  moonrise,  that  makes  one  fancy  it  enveloping 
the  earth  like  the  bloom  on  a  plum." 

"  And  see  how  it  has  powdered  the  sea  !  The  waters 
look  like  the  wings  of  the  papillon  lieu" 

"  It  seems  that  you  love  the  sea." 

"  Oh,  certainly.  I  have  thought  that  we  islanders  were 
like  those  Chinese  who  live  in  great  tanka-boats  on  the 
rivers ;  only  our  boat  rides  at  anchor.  To  climb  the 
highest  land,  and  see  yourself  girt  with  fields  of  azure 
enamelled  in  sheets  of  sunshine  and  fleets  of  sails,  and 
lifted  against  the  horizon,  deep,  crystalline,  and  translu 
cent  as  a  gem,  —  that  makes  one  feel  strong  in  isolation, 
and  produces  keen  races.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  isolation  causes  either  vivid  character 
istics  or  idiocy,  seldom  strong  or  healthy  ones  ;  and  I  do 
not  value  race." 

"  Because  you  came  from  America  ! "  —  with  an  air  of 
disgust,  —  "  where  there  is  yet  no  race,  and  the  popula 
tion  is  still  too  fluctuating  for  the  mould  of  one." 

"  I  come  from  India,  where,  if  anywhere,  there  is  race." 


294  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  But,  pshaw  !  that  was  not  what  we  were  talking 
about." 

"  No,  Mademoiselle,  we  were  speaking  of  an  element 
even  more  fluctuating  than  American  population." 

"  Of  course  I  love  the  sea ;  but  if  the  sea  loves  me,  it 
is  the  way  a  cat  loves  the  mouse." 

"  It  is  always  putting  up  a  hand  to  snatch  you  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  am  sent  to  Nineveh  and  persist  in  ship 
ping  for  Tarshish.  I  never  enter  a  boat  without  an  acci 
dent.  The  Belle  Voyageuse  met  shipwreck,  and  I  on 
board.  That  was  anticipated,  though,  by  all  the  world ; 
for  the  night  before  we  set  sail,  —  it  was  a  very  murk, 
hot  night,  —  we  were  all  called  out  to  see  the  likeness  of 
a  large  merchantman  transfigured  in  flames  upon  the  sky, 
—  spars  and  ropes  and  hull  one  net  and  glare  of  fire." 

"A  mirage,  probably,  from  some  burning  ship  at 
sea." 

"  No,  I  would  rather  think  it  supernatural.  Oh,  it  was 
frightful !  Rather  superb,  though,  to  think  of  such  a 
spectral  craft  rising  to  warn  us  with  ghostly  flames  that 
the  old  Belle  Voyageuse  was  riddled  with  rats  ! " 

"  Did  it  burn  blue  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  Oh,  if  you  're  going  to  make  fun  of  me,  I  '11  tell  you 
nothing  more  ! " 

As  she  spoke,  Capua,  who  had  considered  himself,  dur 
ing  the  many  years  of  wandering,  both  guiding  and  folding 
star  to  his  master,  came  up,  with  his  eyes  rolling  fearfully 
in  a  lively  expansion  of  countenance,  and  muttered  a  few 
words  in  Mr.  Raleigh's  ear,  lifting  both  hands  in  comical 
consternation  the  while. 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  following 
him,  and,  meeting  Captain  Tarbell  at  the  companion-way, 
the  three  descended  together. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  295 

Mr.  Raleigh  was  absent  some  fifteen  minutes,  at  the 
end  of  that  time  rejoining  Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  make  fun  of  you,"  said  he,  resuming 
the  conversation  as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption.  "  I 
was  watching  the  foam  the  Osprey  makes  in  her  speed, 
which  certainly  burns  blue.  See  the  flashing  sparks! 
now  that  all  the  red  fades  from  the  west,  they  glow  in 
the  moon  like  broken  amethysts." 

"  What  did  you  mean,  then  ?  "  she  asked,  pettishly. 

"  Oh,  I  wished  to  see  if  the  idea  of  a  burning  ship  was 
so  terrifying." 

"  Terrifying  ?  No ;  I  have  no  fear ;  I  never  was 
afraid.  But  it  must,  in  reality,  be  dreadful.  I  cannot 
think  of  anything  else  so  appalling." 

"Not  at  all  timid?" 

"Mamma  used  to  say,  those  that  know  nothing  fear 
nothing." 

"  Eminently  your  case.  Then  you  cannot  imagine  a 
situation  in  which  you  would  lose  self-possession  ?  " 

"  Scarcely.  Is  n't  it  people  of  the  finest  organization, 
comprehensive,  large-souled,  that  are  capable  of  the  ex 
tremes  either  of  courage  or  fear  ?  Now  I  am  limited,  so 
that,  without  rash  daring  or  pale  panic,  I  can  generally 
preserve  equilibrium." 

"  How  do  you  know  all  this  of  yourself  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  an  amused  air. 

"  Certaines  occasions  me  I'ont  appris"  she  replied, 
briefly. 

"  89  I  presumed,"  said  he.  "  Ah  ?  They  have  thrown 
out  the'  log.  See,  we  make  progress.  If  this  breeze 
holds!" 

"You  are  impatient,  Mr.  Raleigh.  You  have  dear 
friends  at  home,  whom  you  wish  to  see,  who  wish  to 
see  you?" 


296  MIDSUMMEK  AND  MAY. 

u  No,"  he  replied,  with  a  certain  bitterness  in  his  tone. 
"  There  is  no  one  to  whom  I  hasten,  no  one  who  waits  to 
receive  me." 

"No  one?  But  that  is  terrible!  Then  why  should 
you  wish  to  hasten  ?  For  me,  I  would  always  be  willing 
to  loiter  along,  to  postpone  home  indefinitely." 

"  That  is  very  generous,  Mademoiselle." 

«  Mr.  Raleigh  —  " 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  I  wish  —  please  —  you  must  not  say  Mademoiselle. 
Nobody  will  address  me  so,  shortly.  Give  me  my  name, 
—  call  me  Marguerite.  Je  vous  en  prie" 

And  she  looked  up  with  a  blush  deepening  the  apple- 
bloom  of  her  cheek. 

"  Marguerite  ?  Does  it  answer  for  pearl  or  for  daisy 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  called  me  so  because  I  was  such  a  little 
round  white  baby.  I  could  n't  have  been  very  precious, 
though,  or  she  never  would  have  parted  with  me.  Yes,  I 
wish  we  might  drift  on  some  lazy  current  for  years.  I 
hate  to  shorten  the  distance.  I  stand  in  awe  of  my  father, 
and  I  do  not  remember  my  mother." 

"  Do  not  remember  ?  " 

"  She  is  so  perfect,  so  superb,  so  different  from  me ! 
But  she  ought  to  love  her  own  child ! " 

"Her  own  child?" 

"  And  then  I  do  not  know  the  customs  of  this  strange 
land.  Shall  I  be  obliged  to  keep  an  establishment  ?  " 

"  Keep  an  establishment  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  rude  to  repeat  my  words  so !  You  ought  n't ! 
Yes,  keep  an  establishment !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mademoiselle." 

"  No,  it  is  I  who  am  rude." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  297 

"  Not  at  all,  —  but  mysterious.  I  am  quite  in  the  dark 
concerning  you." 

"  Concerning  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Miss  Marguerite,  it  is  my  turn  now." 

"  Oh  !  It  must  be  —  This  is  your  mystery,  n'est  ce 
pas  ?  Mamma  was  my  grandmamma.  My  own  mother 
was  far  too  young  when  mamma  gave  her  in  marriage ; 
and,  to  make  amends,  mamma  adopted  me  and  left  me 
her  name  and  her  fortune.  So  that  I  am  very  wealthy. 
And  now  shall  I  keep  an  establishment  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  with  a  smile. 

"Do  you  know,  you  constantly  reassure  me?  Home 
grows  less  and  less  a  bugbear  when  you  speak  of  it. 
How  strange !  It  seems  as  if  I  had  known  you  a  year, 
instead  of  a  week." 

"  It  would  probably  take  that  period  of  time  to  make 
us  as  well  acquainted  under  other  circumstances." 

"  I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  with  us  always.  Shall 
you  stay  in  America,  Mr.  Raleigh  ?  " 

"  Only  till  the  fall.  But  I  will  leave  you  .  at  your 
father's  door  —  " 

And  then  Mr.  Raleigh  ceased  suddenly,  as  if  he  had 
promised  an  impossibility. 

"  How  long  before  we  reach  New  York  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  about  nine  hours,"  he  replied,  —  adding,  in  uncon 
scious  undertone,  "  if  ever." 

"What  was  that  you  said  to  yourself?  "  she  demanded, 
in  a  light  and  gayly  inquisitive  voice,  as  she  looked  around 
and  over  the  ship.  "  Why,  how  many  there  are  on  deck ! 
It  is  such  a  beautiful  night,  I  suppose.  Eh,  Mr.  Raleigh?" 

"  Are  you  not  tired  of  your  position  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Sit 
down  beside  me  here."  And  he  took  a  seat. 

"  No,  I  would  rather  stand.     Tell  me  what  you  said." 
13* 


298  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY 

"  Sit,  then,  to  please  me,  Marguerite,  and  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  said." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  standing  before  him,  the  hood 
of  her  capote,  with  its  rich  purple,  dropping  from  the  flut 
tering  yellow  hair  that  the  moonlight  deepened  into  gold, 
and  the  fire-opal  clasp  rising  and  falling  with  her  breath, 
like  an  imprisoned  flame.  He  touched  her  hand,  still 
warm  and  soft,  with  his  own,  which  was  icy.  She  with 
drew  it,  turned  her  eyes,  whose  fair,  faint  lustre,  the  pale 
forget-me-not  blue,  was  darkened  by  the  antagonistic  light 
to  an  amethystine  shadow,  inquiringly  upon  him. 

"  There  is  some  danger,"  she  murmured. 

"  Yes.  When  you  are  not  a  mark  for  general  observa 
tion,  you  shall  hear  it." 

"  I  would  rather  hear  it  standing." 

"  I  told  you  the  condition." 

"  Then  I  shall  go  and  ask  Captain  Tarbell." 

"  And  come  sobbing  back  to  me  for  *  reassurance.' " 

"  No,"  she  said,  quickly,  "  I  should  go  down  to  Ursule." 

"  Ursule  has  a  mattress  on  deck ;  I  assisted  her  up." 

"  There  is  the  captain !     Now  —  " 

He  seized  her  hand  and  drew  her  down  beside  him. 
For  an  instant  she  would  have  resisted,  as  the  sparkling 
eyes  and  flushed  cheeks  attested,  —  and  then,  with  the  in 
stinctive  feminine  baseness  that  compels  every  woman, 
when  once  she  has  met  her  master,  she  submitted. 

"  I  am  sorry,  if  you  are  offended,"  said  he.  "  But  the 
captain  cannot  attend  to  you  now,  and  it  is  necessary  to 
be  guarded  in  movement ;  for  a  slight  thing  on  such 
occasions  may  produce  a  panic." 

"  You  should  not  have  forced  me  to  sit,"  said  she,  in  a 
smothered  voice,  without  heeding  him :  "  you  had  no 
right." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  299 

"  This  right,  that  I  assume  the  care  of  you." 

"  Monsieur,  you  see  that  I  am  quite  competent  to  the 
care  of  myself." 

"Marguerite,  I  see  that  you  are  determined  to 
quarrel." 

She  paused  a  moment,  ere  replying ;  then  drew  a  little 
nearer  and  turned  her  face  toward  him,  though  without 
looking  up. 

«  Forgive  me,  then  !  "  said  she.  "  But  I  would  rather 
be  naughty  and  froward,  it  lets  me  stay  a  child,  and  so 
you  can  take  me  in  keeping,  and  I  need  not  think  for 
myself  at  all.  But  if  I  act  like  a  woman  grown,  then 
comes  all  the  responsibility,  and  I  must  rely  on  myself, 
which  is  such  trouble  now,  though  I  never  felt  it  so 
before,  —  I  don't  know  why.  Don't  you  see  ?  "  And  she 
glanced  at  him  with  her  head  on  one  side,  and  laughing 
archly. 

"  You  were  right,"  he  replied,  after  surveying  her  a 
moment;  "my  proffered  protection  is  entirely  super 
fluous." 

She  thought  he  was  about  to  go,  and  placed  her  hand 
on  his,  as  it  lay  along  the  side.  "  Don't  leave  me,"  she 
murmured. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  leaving  you,"  he  said. 

"  You  are  very  good.  I  have  never  seen  one  like  you. 
I  love  you  well."  And,  bathed  in  moonlight,  she  raised 
her  face  and  her  glowing  lips  toward  him. 

Mr.  Raleigh  gazed  in  the  innocent  eyes  a  moment,  to 
seek  the  extent  of  her  meaning,  and  felt,  that,  should  he 
take  advantage  of  her  childlike  forgetfulness,  he  would  be 
only  re-enacting  the  part  he  had  so  much  condemned  in 
one  man  years  before.  So  he  merely  bent  low  over  the 
hand  that  lay  in  his,  raised  it,  and  touched  his  lips  to  that. 


300  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

In  an  instant  the  color  suffused  her  face,  she  snatched  the 
hand  away,  half  rose  trembling  from  her  seat,  and  sank 
into  it  again. 

"  Soit,  Monsieur ! "  she  exclaimed,  abruptly.  "  But 
you  have  not  told  me  the  danger." 

"  It  will  not  alarm  you  now  ?  "  he  replied,  laughing. 

"  I  have  said  that  I  am  not  a  coward." 

"  I  wonder  what  you  would  think  of  me  when  I  say 
that  without  doubt  I  am." 

"  You,  Mr.  Raleigh  ?  "  she  cried,  astonishment  banish 
ing  anger. 

"  Not  that  I  betray  myself.  But  that  I  have  felt  the 
true  heart-sinking.  Once,  surprised  in  the  centre  of  an 
insurrection,  I  expected  to  find  my  hair  white  as  snow,  if 
I  escaped." 

"  Your  hair  is  very  black.     And  you  escaped  ?  " 

"  So  it  would  appear." 

"  They  suffered  you  to  go  on  account  of  your  terror  ? 
You  feigned  death?  You  took  flight?" 

"  Hardly,  —  neither." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said,  imperiously. 

Though  Mr.  Raleigh  had  exchanged  the  singular  re 
serve  of  his  youth  for  a  well-bred  reticence,  he  scarcely 
cared  to  be  his  own  hero. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  she.  "  It  will  shorten  the  time  ;  and 
that  is  what  you  are  trying  to  do,  you  know." 

He  laughed. 

"  It  was  once  when  I  was  obliged  to  make  an  unpleas 
ant  journey  into  the  interior,  and  a  detachment  was  placed 
at  my  service.  We  were  in  a  suspected  district  quite 
favorable  to  their  designs,  and  the  commanding  officer 
was  attacked  with  illness  in  the  night.  Being  called  to 
his  assistance,  I  looked  abroad  and  fancied  things  wore  an 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  301 

unusual  aspect  among  the  men,  and  sent  Capua  to  steal 
down  a  covered  path  and  see  if  anything  were  wrong. 
Never  at  fault,  he  discovered  a  revolt  with  intent  to  mur 
der  my  companion  and  myself,  and  retreat  to  the  moun 
tains.  Of  course  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do.  I  put  a 
pistol  in  my  belt  and  walked  down  and  in  among  them, 
singled  out  the  ringleader,  fixed  him  with  my  eye,  and 
bade  him  approach.  My  appearance  was  so  sudden  and 
unsuspected  that  they  forgot  defiance." 

"  Bien,  but  I  thought  you  were  afraid." 

"  So  I  was.  I  could  not  have  spoken  a  second  word. 
I  experienced  intense  terror,  and  that,  probably,  gave  my 
glance  a  concentration  of  which  I  was  unaware  and  by 
myself  incapable ;  but  I  did  not  suffer  it  to  waver ;  I 
could  not  have  moved  it,  indeed ;  I  kept  it  on  the*  man 
while  he  crept  slowly  toward  me.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  horrible  sensation.  I  did  not  dare  permit  myself  to 
doubt  his  conquest ;  but  if  I  had  failed,  as  I  then  thought, 
his  approach  was  like  the  slow  coil  of  a  serpent  about  me, 
and  ii  ivas  his  glittering  eyes  that  had  fixed  mine,  and  not 
mine  his.  At  my  feet,  I  commanded  him,  with  a  gesture, 
to  disarm.  He  obeyed,  and  I  breathed  ;  and  one  by  one 
they  followed  his  example.  Capua,  who  was  behind  me, 
I  sent  back  with  the  weapons,  and  in  the  morning  gave 
them  their  choice  of  returning  to  town  with  their  hands 
tied  behind  their  backs,  or  of  going  on  with  me  and 
remaining  faithful.  They  chose  the  latter,  did  me  good 
service,  and  I  said  nothing  about  the  affair." 

"  That  was  well.     But  were  you  really  frightened  ?  " 

"  So  I  said.  I  cannot  think  of  it  yet  without  a  slight 
shudder." 

"Yes,  and  a  rehearsal.  Your  eyes  charge  bayonets 
now.  I  am  not  a  Sepoy." 


302  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Well,  you  are  still  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  be  angry  with  you  ?  " 

"  How,  indeed  ?  So  much  your  senior  that  you  owe 
me  respect,  Miss  Marguerite.  I  am  quite  old  enough  to 
be  your  father." 

"  You  are,  sir  ?  "  she  replied,  with  surprise.  "  Why, 
are  you  fifty-five  years  old  ?  " 

"  Is  that  Mr.  Laudersdale's  age  ?  " 

"  How  did  you  know  Mr.  Laudersdale  was  my  father?" 

"  By  an  arithmetical  process.     That  is  his  age  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  yours?" 

"  Not  exactly.     I  was  thirty-seven  last  August." 

"  And  will  be  thirty-eight  next  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  logical  deduction." 

"I  shall  give  you  a  birthday-gift  when  you  are  just 
twice  my  age." 

"  By  what  courier  will  you  make  it  reach  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot.     But  —  Mr.  Raleigh  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  replied,  turning  to  look  at  her,  —  for 
his  eyes  had  been  wandering  over  the  deck. 

"  I  thought  you  would  ask  me  to  write  to  you." 

"  No,  that  would  not  be  worth  while." 

His  face  was  too  grave  for  her  to  feel  indignation. 

"Why?"  she  demanded. 

"  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure,  without  doubt.  But 
in  a  week  you  will  have  too  many  other  cares  and  duties 
to  care  for  such  a  burden." 

"  That  shows  that  you  do  not  know  me  at  all.  Vous 
avez  mal  agi  avec  moi  !  " 

Though  Mr.  Raleigh  still  looked  at  her,  he  did  not 
reply.  She  rose  and  walked  away  a  few  steps,  coming 
back. 

"  You  are  always  in  the  right,  and  I  consequently  in 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  303 

the  wrong,"  she  said.  "  How  often  to-night  have  I  asked 
pardon  ?  I  will  not  put  up  with  it  ?  " 

"  We  shall  part  in  a  few  hours,"  he  replied ;  "  when 
you  lose  your  temper,  I  lose  my  time." 

"  In  a  few  hours  ?  Then  is  the  danger  which  you 
mentioned  past?" 

"  I  scarcely  think  so." 

"  Now  I  am  not  going  to  be  diverted  again.  What  is 
this  dreadful  danger  ?  " 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  in  the  first  place,  that  we  shall  prob 
ably  make  the  port  before  our  situation  becomes  appar 
ently  worse,  —  that  we  do  not  take  to  the  boats,  because 
we  are  twice  too  many  to  fill  them,  owing  to  the  Belle 
Voyageuse,  and  because  it  might  excite  mutiny,  and  for 
several  other  becauses,  —  that  every  one  is  on  deck, 
Capua  consoling  Ursule,  the  captain  having  told  to  each, 
personally,  the  possibility  of  escape  —  " 

"Achevez!" 

"  That  the  lights  are  closed,  the  hatches  battened  down, 
and  by  dint  of  excluding  the  air  we  can  keep  the  flames 
in  a  smouldering  state  and  sail  into  harbor  a  shell  of  safety 
over  this  core  of  burning  coal." 

"  Reducing  the  equation,  the  ship  is  on  fire  ?  " 

"Yes." 

She  did  not  speak  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  he  saw 
that  she  was  quite  faint.  Soon  recovering  herself,  — 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  the  mirage  now  ? "  she 
asked.  "  Where  is  Ursule  ?  I  must  go  to  her,"  she 
added  suddenly,  after  a  brief  silence,  starting  to  her 
feet. 

"  Shall  I  accompany  you  ?  " 

«  Oh,  no." 

"  She  lies  on  a  mattress  there,  behind  that  group,"  — 


304  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

nodding  in  the  implied  direction  ;  "  and  it  would  be  well, 
if  you  could  lie  beside  her  and  get  an  hour's  rest." 

"  Me  ?  I  could  n't  sleep.  I  shall  come  back  to  you,  — 
may  I  ?  "  And  she  was  gone. 

Mr.  Raleigh  still  sat  in  the  position  in  which  she  had 
left  him,  when,  a  half-hour  afterward,  she  returned. 

"  Where  is  your  cloak  ?  "  he  asked,  rising  to  receive 
her. 

"  I  spread  it  over  Ursule,  she  was  so  chilly." 

"  You  will  not  take  cold  ?" 

"  I  ?     I  am  on  fire  myself." 

"  Ah,  I  see  ;  you  have  the  Saturnalian  spirit  in  you." 

"It  is  like  the  Revolution,  the  French,  is  it  not?  — 
drifting  on  before  the  wind  of  Fate,  this  ship  full  of  fire 
and  all  red-hot  raging  turbulence.  Just  look  up  the  long 
sparkling  length  of  these  white,  full  shrouds,  swelling  and 
curving  like  proud  swans,  in  the  gale,  —  and  then  imagine 
the  devouring  monster  below  in  his  den  !  " 

"  Don't  imagine  it.  Be  quiet  and  sit  beside  me.  Half 
the  night  is  gone." 

"  I  remember  reading  of  some  pirates  once,  who,  driv 
ing  forward  to  destruction  on  fearful  breakers,  drank  and 
sang  and  died  madly.  I  wish  the  whole  ship's  company 
would  burst  out  in  one  mighty  chorus  now,  or  that  we 
might  rush  together  with  tumultuous  impulse  and  dance, 
—  dance  wildly  into  death  and  daylight. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  death,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh. 
"  Our  foe  is  simply  time.  You  dance,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  dance  well,  —  like  those  white  fluttering 
butterflies,  —  as  if  I  were  au  gre  du  vent" 

"  That  would  not  be  dancing  well." 

"  It  would  not  be  dancing  well  to  be  at  the  will  of  the 
wind,  but  it  is  perfection  to  appear  so." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  305 

"  The  dance  needs  the  expression  of  the  dancer's  will. 
It  is  breathing  sculpture.  It  is  mimic  life  beyond  all 
other  arts." 

"  Then  well  I  love  to  dance.  And  I  do  dance  well. 
Wait,  —  you  shall  see." 

He  detained  her. 

"Be  still,  little  maid!"  he  said,  and  again  drew  her 
beside  him,  though  she  still  continued  standing. 

At  this  moment  the  captain  approached. 

"  What  cheer  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Kaleigh. 

"  No  cheer,"  he  answered,  gloomily,  dinting  his  finger 
nails  into  his  palm.  "The  planks  forward  are  already 
hot  to  the  hand.  I  tremble  at  every  creak  of  cordage, 
lest  the  deck  crash  in  and  bury  us  all." 

"  You  have  made  the  Sandy  Hook  light  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  too  late  to  run  her  ashore." 

"  You  cannot  try  that  at  the  —  " 

«  Certain  death." 

"  The  wind  scarcely  —  " 

"  Veered  a  point.  I  am  carrying  all  sail.  But  if  this 
tooth  of  fire  gnaws  below,  you  will  soon  see  the  masts  go 
by  the  board.  And  then  we  are  lost,  indeed  ! " 

"  Courage !  she  will  certainly  hold  together  till  you  can 
hail  the  pilots." 

"  I  think  no  one  need  tremble  when  he  has  such  an  in 
stance  of  fearlessness  before  him,"  replied  the  captain, 
bowing  to  Marguerite ;  and  turning  away,  he  hid  his  sus 
pense  and  pain  again  under  a  calm  countenance. 

Standing  all  this  while  beside  Mr.  Raleigh,  she  had 
heard  the  whole  of  the  conversation,  and  he  felt  the  hand 
in  his  growing  colder  as  it  continued.  He  wondered  if  it 
were  still  the  same  excitement  that  sent  the  alternate  flush 
and  pallor  up  her  cheek.  She  sat  down,  leaning  her  head 


306  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

back  against  the  bulwark,  as  if  to  look  at  the  stars,  and 
suffering  the  light,  fine  hair  to  blow  about  her  temples 
before  the  steady  breeze.  He  bent  over  to  look  into  her 
eyes,  and  found  them  fixed  and  lustreless. 

"  Marguerite  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  the  teeth  seemed  to  hinder  the 
escape  of  her  words,  and  to  break  them  into  bits  of  sound ; 
a  shiver  shook  her  from  head  to  foot. 

"I  wonder  if  this  is  fear,"  she  succeeded  in  saying. 
"  Oh,  if  there  were  somewhere  to  go,  something  to  hide 
me !  A  great  horror  is  upon  me  !  I  am  afraid !  Seigneur 
Dieu  !  Mourir  par  le  feu  !  Perissons  alors  au  plus  vite  !  " 
And  she  shuddered,  audibly. 

Mr.  Raleigh  passed  his  arm  about  her  and  gathered  her 
closer  to  himself.  He  saw  at  once,  that,  sensitive  as  she 
was  to  every  impression,  this  fear  was  a  contagious  one,  a 
mere  gregarian  affinity,  and  that  she  needed  the  prepon 
derating  warmth  and  strength  of  a  protecting  presence, 
the  influence  of  a  fuller  vitality.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
his  touch  must  in  some  measure  have  counteracted  the 
dread  that  oppressed  her.  She  ceased  trembling,  but  did 
not  move. 

The  westering  moon  went  to  bury  herself  in  banks  of 
cloud ;  the  wind  increasing  piped  and  whistled  in  strident 
threatening  through  the  rigging ;  the  ship  vibrated  to  the 
concussive  voice  of  the  minute-gun.  No  murmurs  but 
those  of  wind  and  water  were  heard  among  the  throng ; 
they  drove  forward  in  awful,  pallid  silence.  Suddenly 
the  shriek  of  one  voice,  but  from  fourscore  throats,  rent 
the  agonized  quiet.  A  red  light  was  running  along  the 
deck,  a  tongue  of  flame  lapping  round  the  forecastle,  a 
spire  shooting  aloft.  Marguerite  hid  her  face  in  Mr. 
Raleigh's  arm ;  a  great  sob  seemed  to  go  up  from  all  the 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  307 

people.  The  captain's  voice  thundered  through  the  tu 
mult,  and  instantly  the  mates  sprang  forward  and  the  jib 
went  crashing  overboard.  Mr.  Raleigh  tore  his  eyes 
away  from  the  fascination  of  this  terror,  and  fixed  them 
by  chance  on  two  black  specks  that  danced  on  the  watery 
horizon.  He  gazed  with  intense  vision  a  moment.  "  The 
tugs  !  "  he  cried.  The  words  thrilled  with  hope  in  every 
dying  heart ;  they  no  longer  saw  themselves  the  waiting 
prey  of  pain  and  death,  of  flames  and  sea.  Some  few 
leaped  into  the  boat  at  the  stern,  lowered  and  cut  it 
away ;  others  dropped  spontaneously  into  file,  and  passed 
the  dripping  buckets  of  sea-water,  to  keep,  if  possible,  the 
flames  in  check.  Mr.  Raleigh  and  Marguerite  crossed 
over  to  Ursule. 

The  sight  of  her  nurse,  passive  in  despair,  restored  to 
the  girl  a  portion  of  her  previous  spirit.  She  knelt  beside 
her,  talking  low  and  rapidly,  now  and  then  laughing,  and 
all  the  time  communicating  nerve  with  her  light,  firm 
finger-touches.  Except  their  quick  and  unintelligible 
murmurs,  and  the  plash  and  hiss  of  water,  nothing  else 
broke  the  torturing  hush  of  expectation.  There  was  a 
half-hour  of  breathless  watch  ere  the  steam-tugs  were 
alongside.  Already  the  place  was  full  of  fervid  torment, 
and  they  had  climbed  upon  every  point  to  leave,  below, 
the  stings  of  the  blistering  deck.  None  waited  on  the 
order  of  their  going,  but  thronged  and  sprang  precipitate 
ly.  Ursule  was  at  once  deposited  in  safety.  The  captain 
moved  to  conduct  Marguerite  across,  but  she  drew  back 
and  clung  to  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  J'ai  honte,"  she  said ;  "je  ne  lougerai  pas  plus  tot 
que  vous." 

The  breath  of  the  fierce  flames  scorched  her  cheek  as 
she  spoke,  the  wind  of  their  roaring  progress  swept  her 


308  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

hair.     He  lifted  her  over  without  further  consultation, 
and  still  kept  her  in  his  care. 

There  was  a  strange  atmosphere  on  board  the  little 
vessels,  as  they  labored  about  and  parted  from  the 
doomed  Osprey.  Many  were  subdued  with  awe  and  joy 
at  their  deliverance ;  others  broke  the  tense  strain  of  the 
last  hours  in  suffocating  sobs.  Every  throb  of  the  pant 
ing  engines  they  answered  with  waiting  heart-beats,  as  it 
sent  them  farther  from  the  fearful  wonder,  now  blazing 
in  multiplex  lines  of  fire  against  the  gray  horizon.  Mr. 
Raleigh  gazed  after  it  as  one  watches  the  conflagration 
of  a  home.  Marguerite  left  her  quiet  weeping  to  gaze 
with  him.  An  hour  silently  passed,  and  as  the  fiery 
phantom  faded  into  dawn  and  distance  she  sang  sweetly 
the  first  few  lines  of  an  old  French  hymn.  Another  voice 
took  up  the  measure,  stronger  and  clearer ;  those  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  words  caught  the  spirit  of  the  tune ; 
and  no  choral  service  ever  pealed  up  temple-vaults  with 
more  earnest  accord  than  that  in  which  this  chant  of 
grateful,  exultant  devotion  now  rose  from  rough-throated 
men  and  weary  women  in  the  crisp  air  and  yellowing 
spring-morning. 

The  stray  sails  had  thickened  into  the  flickering  forest 
of  shipping  at  last,  and  as  the  moment  of  parting  ap 
proached,  Marguerite  stood  with  folded  hands  before  Mr. 
Raleigh,  looking  sadly  down  the  harbor. 

"  I  regret  all  that,"  she  said,  —  "  these  days  that  seem 
years." 

"  An  equivocal  phrase,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile. 
"  But  you  know  what  I  mean.     I  am  going  to  stran 
gers  ;  I  have  been  with  you.     I  shall  find  no  one  so  kind 
to  me  as  you  have  been,  Monsieur." 

"  Your  strangers  can  be  much  kinder  to  you  than  I 
have  been." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  309 

"  Never !  I  wish  they  did  not  exist !  What  do  I  care 
for  them  ?  What  do  they  care  for  me  ?  They  do  not 
know  me  ;  I  shall  shock  them.  I  miss  you,  I  hate  them, 
already.  Non  !  Personne  ne  m'aime,  et  je  n'aime  per- 
sonne  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  low-toned  vehemence. 

"  Rite,"  began  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  Rite  !  No  one  but  my  mother  ever  called  me  that. 
How  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  met  your  mother,  and  I  knew  you  a  great 
many  years  ago." 

"  Mr.  Raleigh ! "  And  there  was  the  least  possible 
shade  of  unconscious  regret  in  the  voice  before  it  added, 
"  And  what  was  I  ?  " 

"  You  were  some  little  wood-spirit,  the  imp  of  a  fallen 
cone,  mayhap,  or  the  embodiment  of  birch -tree  shadows. 
You  were  a  soiled  and  naughty  little  beauty,  not  so 
different  from  your  present  self,  and  who  kissed  me  on 
the  lips." 

"  And  did  you  refuse  to  take  the  kiss  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  You  were  a  child  then,"  he  said.  "  And  I  was 
not  —  " 

"Was  not?  —  " 

Here  the  boat  swung  round  at  her  moorings,  and  the 
shock  prevented  Mr.  Raleigh's  finishing  his  sentence. 

"  Ursule  is  with  us,  or  on  the  other  one  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  With  us." 

"  That  is  fortunate.  She  is  all  I  have  remaining,  by 
which  to  prove  my  identity." 

"  As  if  there  could  be  two  such  maidens  in  the 
world!" 

Marguerite  left  him,  a  moment,  to  give  Captain  Tar- 
bell  her  address,  and  returning,  they  were  shortly  after- 


310  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

ward  seated  side  by  side  in  a  coach,  Capua  and  Ursule 
following  in  another.  As  they  stopped  at  the  destined 
door,  Mr.  Raleigh  alighted  and  extended  his  hand.  She 
lingered  a  moment  ere  taking  it,  —  not  to  say  adieu,  nor 
to  offer  him  cheek  or  lip  again. 

"  Que  je  vous  remercie  ! "  she  murmured,  lifting  her 
eyes  to  his.  "  Que  je  vous  trouve  bon !  "  and  sprang 
before  him  up  the  steps. 

He  heard  her  father  meet  her  in  the  hall ;  Ursule  had 
already  joined  them  ;  he  re-entered  the  coach  and  rolled 
rapidly  beyond  recall. 

The  burning  of  the  Osprey  did  not  concern  Mr.  Ra 
leigh's  business  relations.  Carrying  his  papers  about 
him,  he  had  personally  lost  thereby  nothing  of  conse 
quence.  He  refreshed  himself,  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
the  transactions  awaiting  him.  In  a  brief  time  he  found 
that  affairs  wore  a  different  aspect  from  that  for  which  he 
had  been  instructed,  and  letters  from  the  house  had 
already  arrived,  by  the  overland  route,  which  required 
mutual  reply  and  delay  before  he  could  take  further 
steps ;  so  that  Mr.  Raleigh  found  himself  with  some 
months  of  idleness  upon  his  hands,  in  a  land  with  not  a 
friend.  There  lay  a  little  scented  billet,  among  the  docu 
ments  on  his  table,  that  had  at  first  escaped  his  attention ; 
he  took  it  up  wonderingly,  and  broke  the  seal.  It  was 
from  his  Cousin  Kate,  and  had  been  a  few  days  before 
him.  Mrs.  McLean  had  heard  of  his  expected  arrival,  it 
said,  and  begged  him,  if  he  had  any  time  to  spare,  to 
spend  it  with  her  in  his  old  home  by  the  lake,  whither 
every  summer  they  had  resorted  to  meditate  on  the  vir 
tues  of  the  departed.  There  was  added,  in  a  different 
hand,  whose  delicate  and  pointed  characters  seemed 
singularly  familiar,  — 


MIDSUMMEE  AND  MAY.  311 

"  Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie,  dear  Charlie,  brave  Charlie ! 
Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie,  and  dine  wi'  McLean!  " 

Mr.  Raleigh  looked  at  the  matter  a  few  moments ;  he 
did  not  think  it  best  to  remain  long  in  the  city ;  he  would 
be  glad  to  know  if  sight  of  the  old  scenes  could  renew  a 
throb.  He  answered  his  letters,  replenished  his  ward 
robe,  and  took,  that  same  day,  the  last  train  for  the  North. 
At  noon  of  the  second  day  thereafter  he  found  Mr. 
McLean's  coach,  with  that  worthy  gentleman  in  person, 
awaiting  him,  and  he  stepped  out,  when  it  paused  at  the 
foot  of  his  own  former  garden,  with  a  strange  sense  of  the 
world  as  an  old  story,  a  twice-told  tale,  a  maze  of  error. 

Mrs.  McLean  came  running  down  to  meet  him,  —  a 
face  less  round  and  rosy  than  once,  as  the  need  of  pink 
cap-ribbons  testified,  but  smiling  and  bright  as  youth. 

"The  same  little  Kate,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  after  the 
first  greeting,  putting  his  hands  on'  her  shoulders  and 
smiling  down  at  her  benevolently. 

"  Not  quite  the  same  Roger,  though,"  said  she,  shaking 
her  head.  "  I  expected  this  stain  on  your  skin  ;  but, 
dear  me !  your  eyes  look  as  if  you  had  not  a  friend  in  the 
wodd." 

"  How  can  they  look  so,  when  you  give  me  such  a 
welcome  ?  " 

"  Dear  old  Roger,  you  are  just  the  same,"  said  she, 
bestowing  a  little  caress  upon  his  sleeve.  "  And  if  you 
remember  the  summer  before  you  went  away,  you  will 
not  find  that  pleasant  company  so  very  much  changed 
either." 

"  I  do  not  expect  to  find  them  at  all." 

"  Oh,  then  they  will  find  you  ;  because  they  are  all 
here,  —  at  least  the  principals  ;  some  with  different 
names,  and  some,  like  myself,  with  duplicates,"  —  as  a 


312  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

shier  Kate  came  down  toward  them,  dragging  a  brother 
and  sister  by  the  hand,  and  shaking  chestnut  curls  over 
rosy  blushes. 

After  making  acquaintance  with  the  new  cousins,  Mr. 
Raleigh  turned  again  to  Mrs.  McLean. 

"  And  who  are  there  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  There  is  Mrs.  Purcell,  —  you  remember  Helen 
Heath  ?  Poor  Mrs.  Purcell,  whom  you  knew,  died,  and 
her  slippers  fitted  Helen.  She  chaperons  Mary,  who  is 
single  and  speechless  yet ;  and  Captain,  now  Colonel, 
Purcell  makes  a  very  good  silent  partner.  .He  is  hunt 
ing  in  the  West,  on  furlough  ;  she  is  here  alone.  There 
is  Mrs.  Heath,  —  you  never  have  forgotten  her  ?  " 

«  Not  I." 

"There  is  —  " 

"  And  how  came  you  all  in  the  country  so  early  in  the 
season,  —  anybody  with  your  devotion  to  company  ?  " 

"  To  be  made  April  fools,  John  says." 

"  Why,  the  willows  are  not  yet  so  yellow  as  they  will 
be." 

"  I  know  it.  But  we  had  the  most  fatiguing  winter ; 
and  Mrs.  Laudersdale  and  I  agreed,  that,  the  moment  the 
snow  was  off  the  ground  up  here,  we  would  fly  away  and 
be  at  rest." 

"  Mrs.  Lauder&dale  ?    Can  she  come  here  ?  " 

"  Goodness !  Why  not  ?  The  last  few  summers  we 
have  always  spent  together." 

"  She  is  with  you  now,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  is  the  least  changed  of  all.  I  did  n't 
mean  to  tell,  but  keep  her  as  a  surprise.  Of  course,  you 
will  be  a  surprise  to  everybody.  —  There,  run  along,  chil 
dren  ;  we  '11  follow.  —  Yes,  won't  it  be  delightful,  Roger  ? 
We  can  all  play  at  youth  again." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  313 

"  Like  skeletons  in  some  Dance  of  Death ! "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  We  shall  be  hideous  in  each  other's  sight." 

"  McLean,  I  am  a  bride,"  said  his  wife,  not  heeding 
the  late  misanthropy ;  "  Helen  is  a  girl ;  the  ghost  of  the 
prior  Mrs.  Purcell  shall  be  rediviva  ;  and  Katy  there  —  " 

"  Wait  a  bit,  Kate,"  said  her  cousin.  "  Before  you 
have  shuffled  off  mortality  for  the  whole  party,  sit  down 
under  this  hedge,  —  here  is  an  opportune  bench,  —  and 
give  me  accounts  from  the  day  of  my  departure." 

"  Dear  me,  Roger,  as  if  that  were  possible !  The 
ocean  in  a  tea-cup  ?  Let  me  see,  —  you  had  a  flirta 
tion  with  Helen  that  summer,  did  n't  you  ?  Well,  she 
spent  the  next  winter  at  the  Fort  with  the  Purcells.  It 
was  odd  to  miss  both  her  and  Mrs.  Laudersdale  from  so 
ciety  at  once.  Mrs.  Laudersdale  was  ill ;  I  don't  know 
exactly  what  the  trouble  was.  You  know  she  had  been 
in  such  an  unusual  state  of  exhilaration  all  that  summer ; 
and  as  soon  as  she  left  New  Hampshire  and  began  the  old 
city-life,  she  became  oppressed  with  a  speechless  melan 
choly,  I  believe,  so  that  the  doctors  foreboded  insanity. 
She  expressed  great  disinclination  to  follow  their  advice, 
and  her  husband  finally  banished  them  all.  It  was  a 
great  care  to  him  ;  he  altered  much.  McLean  surmised 
that  she  did  n't  like  to  see  him,  while  she  was  in  this 
state ;  for,  though  he  used  to  surround  her  with  every 
luxury,  and  was  always  hunting  out  new  appliances,  and 
raising  the  heavens  for  a  trifle,  he  kept  himself  carefully 
out  of  her  sight  during  the  greater  part  of  the  winter.  I 
don't  know  whether  she  became  insufferably  lonely,  or 
whether  the  melancholy  wore  off,  or  she  conquered  it,  and 
decided  that  it  was  not  right  to  go  crazy  for  nothing,  or 
what  happened.  But  one  cold  March  evening  he  set  out 
for  his  home,  dreary,  as  usual,  he  thought ;  and  he  found 
u 


314  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

the  fire  blazing  and  reddening  the  ceiling  and  curtains, 
the  room  all  aglow  with  rich  shadows,  and  his  wife  await 
ing  him,  in  full  toilet,  just  as  superb  as  you  will  see  her 
to-night,  just  as  sweet  and  cold  and  impassible  and  impen 
etrable.  At  least,"  continued  Mrs.  McLean,  taking  breath, 
"  I  have  manufactured  this  little  romance  out  of  odds  and 
ends  that  McLean  has  now  and  then  reported  from  his 
conversation.  I  dare  say  there  is  n't  a  bit  of  it  true,  for 
Mr.  Laudersdale  is  n't  a  man  to  publish  his  affairs  ;  but  / 
believe  it.  One  thing  is  certain :  Mrs.  Laudersdale  with 
drew  from  society  one  autumn  and  returned  one  spring, 
and  has  queened  it  ever  since." 
"  Is  Mr.  Laudersdale  with  you  ?  " 
"  No.  But  he  will  come  with  their  daughter  shortly." 
"  And  with  what  do  you  all  occupy  yourselves,  pray  ?  " 
"  Oh,  with  trifles  and  tea,  as  you  would  suppose  us  to 
do.  Mrs.  Purcell  gossips  and  lounges,  as  if  she  were 
playing  with  the  world  for  spectator.  Mrs.  Laudersdale 
lounges,  and  attacks  the  things  of  the  world  with  her 
finger-ends,  as  if  she  were  longing  to  remould  them. 
Mrs.  McLean  gossips  and  scolds,  as  if  it  depended  on 
her  to  keep  the  world  in  order." 

"  Are   you   going   to  keep  me   under   the   hedge   all 
night  ?  " 

"This  is  pretty  well!  Hush!  Who  is  that?" 
As  Mrs.  McLean  spoke,  a  figure  issued  from  the  great 
larches  on  the  left,  and  crossed  the  grass  in  front  of  them, 
—  a  woman,  something  less  tall  than  a  gypsy  queen  might 
be,  the  round  outlines  of  her  form  rich  and  regular,  with  a 
certain  firm  luxuriance,  still  wrapped  in  a  morning-robe 
of  palm-spread  cashmere.  In  her  hand  she  carried  vari 
ous  vines  and  lichens  that  had  maintained  their  orange- 
tawny  stains  under  the  winter's  snow,  and  the  black  hair 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  315 

that  was  folded  closely  over  forehead  and  temple  was 
crowned  with  bent  sprays  of  the  scarlet  maple-blossom. 
As  vivid  a  hue  dyed  her  cheek  through  warm  walking, 
and  with  a  smile  of  unconscious  content  she  passed  quick 
ly  up  the  slope  and  disappeared  within  the  doorway.  She 
impressed  the  senses  of  the  beholder  like  some  ripe  and 
luscious  fruit,  a  growth  of  sunshine  and  summer. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  McLean,  drawing  breath  again,  "who 
is  it  ?  " 

«  Really  I  cannot  tell,"  replied  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  Nor  guess  ?  " 

"  And  that  I  dare  not." 

"  Must  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Was  it  Mrs.  Laudersdale  ?  " 

"  And  should  n't  you  have  known  her  ?  " 

«  Scarcely." 

"  Mercy !  Then  how  did  you  know  me  ?  She  is  un 
altered." 

"  If  that  is  Mrs.  Purcell,  at  the  window,  —  she  does  not 
recognize  me,  you  see  ;  —  neither  did — both  she  and  your 
self  are  nearly  the  same ;  one  could  not  fail  to  know  either 
of  you ;  but  of  the  Mrs.  Laudersdale  of  thirteen  years  ago 
there  remains  hardly  a  vestige." 

If  Mrs.  McLean,  at  this  testimony,  indulged  in  that 
little  inward  satisfaction  which  the  most  generous  woman 
may  feel,  when  told  that  her  color  wears  better  than  the 
color  of  her  dearest  friend,  it  must  have  been  quickly 
quenched  by  the  succeeding  sentence. 

"  Yes,  she  is  certainly  more  beautiful  than  I  ever 
dreamed  of  a  woman's  being.  If  she  continues,  I  do 
not  know  what  perfect  thing  she  will  become.  She  is 
too  exquisite  for  common  use.  I  wonder  her  husband  is 
not  jealous  of  every  mote  in  the  air,  of  rain  and  wind,  of 


316  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

every  day  that  passes  over  her  head,  —  since  each  must 
now  bear  some  charm  from  her  in  its  flight." 

Mr.  Raleigh  was  talking  to  Mrs.  McLean  as  one  fre 
quently  reposes  confidence  in  a  person  when  quite  sure 
that  he  will  not  understand  a  word  you  say. 

An  hour  afterward,  Mrs.  Purcell  joined  Mrs.  McLean. 

"  So  that  is  Mr.  Raleigh,  is  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  He  looks 
as  if  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Siva  the  Destroyer. 
There  's  nothing  left  of  him.  Is  he  taller,  or  thinner,  or 
graver,  or  darker,  or  what  ?  My  dear  Kate,  your  cousin, 
that  promised  to  be  such  a  hero,  has  become  a  mere  man- 
of-business.  Did  you  ever  burn  fire-crackers  ?  You 
have  probably  found  some  that  just  fizzed  out,  theru" 
And  Mrs.  Purcell  took  an  attitude. 

"  Roger  is  a  much  finer  man  than  he  was,  I  think,  — 
so  far  as  I  could  judge  in  the  short  time  we  have  seen 
each  other,"  replied  Mrs.  McLean  with  spirit. 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  Mrs.  Purcell,  "  what  makes 
the  Laudersdale  so  gay  ?  No  ?  She  has  a  letter  from 
her  lord,  and  he  brings  you  that  little  Rite  next  week.  I 
must  send  for  the  Colonel  to  see  such  patterns  of  conjugal 
felicity  as  you  and  she.  Ah,  there  is  the  tea-bell !  " 

Mr.  Raleigh  was  standing  with  one  hand  on  the  back 
of  his  chair,  when  Mrs.  Laudersdale  entered.  The  cheek 
had  resumed  its  usual  pallor,  and  she  was  in  her  custom 
ary  colors  of  black  and  gold.  She  carried  a  curiously  cut 
crystal  glass,  which  she  placed  on  the  sideboard,  and  then 
moved  toward  her  chair.  Her  eye  rested  casually  for  a 
moment  on  Mr.  Raleigh,  as  she  crossed  the  threshold,  and 
then  returned  with  a  species  of  calm  curiosity. 

"  Mrs.  Laudersdale  has  forgotten  me  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
a  bow.  His  voice,  not  susceptible  of  change  in  its  tone 
of  Southern  sweetness,  identified  him. 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  317 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  moving  toward  him,  and  offer 
ing  him  her  hand  quietly.  "  I  am  happy  at  meeting  Mr. 
Raleigh  again."  And  she  took  her  seat. 

There  was  something  in  her  grasp  that  relieved  him. 
It  was  neither  studiedly  cold,  nor  absurdly  brief,  nor  trai 
torously  tremulous.  It  was  simply  and  forgetfully  indif 
ferent.  Mr.  Raleigh  surveyed  her  with  interest  during 
the  light  table-talk.  He  had  been  possessed  with  a  rest 
less  wish  to  see  her  once  more,  to  ascertain  if  she  had  yet 
any  fraction  of  her  old  power  over  him ;  he  had  all  the 
more  determinedly  banished  himself  from  the  city,  —  to 
find  her  in  the  country.  Now  he  sought  for  some  trace 
of  what  had  formerly  aroused  his  heart.  He  rose  from 
table  convinced  that  the  woman  whom  he  once  loved  with 
the  whole  fervor  of  youth  and  strength  and  buoyant  life 
was  no  more,  that  she  did  not  exist,  and  that  Mr.  Raleigh 
might  experience  a  new  passion,  but  his  old  one  was  as 
dead  as  the  ashes  that  cover  the  Five  Cities  of  the  Plain. 
He  wondered  how  it  might  be  with  her.  For  a  moment 
he  cursed  his  inconstancy ;  then  he  feared  lest  she  were 
of  larger  heart  and  firmer  resolve  than  he,  —  lest  her  love 
had  been  less  light  than  his  ;  he  could  scarcely  feel  him 
self  secure  of  freedom,  —  he  must  watch.  And  then  stole 
in  a  deeper  sense  of  loneliness  than  exile  and  foreign 
tongues  had  taught  him,  —  the  knowledge  of  being  single 
and  solitary  in  the  world,  not  only  for  life,  but  for  eternity. 

The  evening  was  passed  in  the  recitation  of  affairs  by 
himself  and  his  cousins  alone  together,  and  until  a  week 
completed  its  tale  of  dawns  and  sunsets  there  was  the 
same  diurnal  recurrence  of  question  and  answer.  One 
day,  as  the  afternoon  was  paling,  Rite  came. 

Mr.  Raleigh  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  vine-hidden  seat 
outside  the  bay  window,  and  was  awakened,  certainly  not 


318  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

by  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  velvets  trailing  over  the  drawing- 
room  carpet.  She  was  just  entering,  slow-paced,  though 
in  haste.  She  held  out  both  of  her  beautiful  arms.  A 
little  form  of  airy  lightness,  a  very  snow-wreath,  blew 
into  them. 

"  0  maman  !  Est  ce  toi  ?  "  it  cried.  "  0  comme  tu  es 
douce  !  Si  belle,  si  chere  !  "  And  the  fair  head  was  lying 
beneath  the  dark  one,  the  face  hidden  in  the  bent  and 
stately  neck. 

Mr.  Raleigh  left  his  seat,  unseen,  and  betook  himself 
to  another  abode.  As  he  passed  the  drawing-room  door, 
on  his  return,  he  saw  the  mother  lying  on  a  lounge,  with 
the  slight  form  nestled  beside  her,  playing  with  it  as  some 
tame  leopardess  might  play  with  her  silky  whelp.  It  was 
almost  the  only  portion  of  the  maternal  nature  developed 
within  her. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  tea-hour  were  a  fated  one.  Mr. 
Raleigh  had  been  out  on  the  water  and  was  late.  As  he 
entered,  Rite  sprang  up,  half-overturning  her  chair,  and 
ran  to  clasp  his  hand. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  and  Mr.  Raleigh  were  ac 
quainted,"  said  Mrs.  McLean. 

"  Oh,  Madam,  Mr.  Raleigh  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
being  shipwrecked  together,"  was  the  reply ;  and  except 
that  Mrs.  Laudersdale  required  another  napkin  where  her 
cup  had  spilled,  all  went  on  smoothly. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  took  Marguerite  entirely  to  herself 
for  a  while.  She  seemed,  at  first,  to  be  like  some  one 
suddenly  possessed  of  a  new  sense,  and  who  did  not 
know  in  the  least  what  to  do  with  it ;  but  custom  and 
familiarity  destroyed  this  sentiment.  She  did  not  appear 
to  entertain  a  doubt  of  her  child's  natural  affection,  but 
she  had  care  to  fortify  it  by  the  exertion  of  every  charm 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  319 

she  possessed.  From  the  presence  of  dangerous  rivals  in 
the  house,  an  element  of  determination  blended  with  her 
manner,  and  she  moved  with  a  certain  conscious  power, 
as  if  wonderful  energies  were  but  half-latent  with  her,  as 
if  there  were  kingdoms  to  conquer  and  crowns  to  win,  and 

she  the  destined  instrument.     You  would  have  selected 

• 

her,  at  this  time  of  her  lavish  devotion  to  Marguerite,  as 
the  one  woman  of  complete  capability,  of  practical  effec 
tive  force,  and  have  declared  that  there  was  nothing  be 
yond  her  strength.  The  relation  between  herself  and  her 
child  was  certainly  as  peculiar  as  anything  else  about 
them ;  the  disparity  of  age  seemed  so  slight  that  they 
appeared  like  sisters,  full  of  mutual  trust,  the  younger 
leaning  on  the  elder  for  support  in  the  most  trivial  affairs. 
They  walked  through  the  woods  together,  learned  again 
its  glades  and  coverts,  searched  its  early  treasure  of  blos 
soms  ;  they  went  out  on  the  lake  and  spent  long  April 
afternoons  together,  floating  about  cove  and  inlet  of  island- 
shores  ;  they  returned  with  innocent  gayety  to  that  house 
which  once  the  mother,  in  her  moment  of  passion,  had 
fancied  to  be  a  possible  heaven  of  delight,  and  which, 
since,  she  had  found  to  be  a  very  indifferent  limbo.  For, 
after  all,  we  derive  as  much  happiness  from  human  beings 
as  from  Nature,  and  it  was  a  tie  of  placid  affection  that 
bound  her  to  the  McLeans,  not  of  sympathetic  union,  and 
her  husband  was  careful  never  to  oppress  her  with  too 
much  of  his  society.  Whether  this  woman,  who  had  lived 
a  life  of  such  wordless  emotion,  who  had  never  bestowed 
a  confidence,  suddenly  blossomed  like  a  rose  and  took  the 
little  new-comer  into  the  gold-dust  and  fragrance  of  her 
heart,  or  whether  there  was  always  between  them  the  thin 
impalpable  division  that  estranged  the  past  from  the  pres 
ent,  there  was  nothing  to  tell ;  it  seemed,  nevertheless,  as 


320  MIDSUMMEK  AND  MAY. 

if  they  could  have  no  closer  bond,  had  they  read  each 
other's  thoughts  from  birth. 

That  this  assumption  of  Marguerite  could  not  continue 
exclusive  Mr.  Raleigh  found,  when  now  and  then  joined 
in  his  walks  by  an  airy  figure  flitting  forward  at  his  side  : 
now  and  then  ;  since  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  without  knowing 
how  to  prevent,  had  manifested  an  uneasiness  at  every 
such  rencontre  ;  —  and  that  it  could  not  endure  forever, 
another  gentleman,  without  so  much  reason,  congratulated 
himself,  —  Mr.  Frederic  Heath,  the  confidential  clerk  of 
Day,  Knight,  &  Co.,  —  a  rather  supercilious  specimen, 
quite  faultlessly  got  up,  who  had  accompanied  her  from 
New  York  at  her  father's  request,  and  who  already  be 
trayed  every  symptom  of  the  suitor.  Meanwhile,  Mrs. 
McLean's  little  women  clamorously  demanded  and  ob 
tained  a  share  of  her  attention,  —  although  Capua  and 
Ursule,  with  their  dark  skins,  brilliant  dyes,  and  equivocal 
dialects,  were  creatures  of  a  more  absorbing  interest. 

One  afternoon,  Marguerite,  came  into  the  drawing- 
room  by  one  door,  as  Mr.  Raleigh  entered  by  another ; 
her  mother  was  sitting  near  the  window,  and  other  mem 
bers  of  the  family  were  in  the  vicinity,  having  clustered 
preparatory  to  the  tea-bell. 

Marguerite  had  twisted  tassels  of  the  willow-catkins  in 
her  hair,  drooping  things,  in  character  with  her  wavy 
grace  and  fresh  youth,  sprinkling  her  with  their  fragrant 
yellow  powder,  the  very  breath  of  spring ;  and  in  one 
hand  she  had  imprisoned  a  premature  lace-winged  fly,  a 
fairy  little  savage,  in  its  sheaths  of  cobweb  and  emerald, 
arid  with  its  jewel  eyes. 

"  Dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Purcell,  gathering  her  array  more 
closely  about  her.  "How  do  you  dare  touch  such  a 
venomous  sprite  ?  " 


MIDSUMMER  AND   MAY.  321 

"  As  if  you  had  an  insect  at  the  North  with  a  sting  !  " 
replied  Marguerite,  suffering  it,  a  little  maliciously,  to  es 
cape  in  the  lady's  face,  and  following  the  flight  with  a 
laugh  of  childlike  glee. 

"  Here  are  your  snowflakes  on  stems,  mamma,"  she 
continued,  dropping  anemones  over  her  mother's  hands, 
one  by  one  ;  —  that  is  what  Mr.  Raleigh  calls  them. 
When  may  I  see  the  snow  ?  You  shall  wrap  me  in 
eider,  that  I  may  be  like  all  the  boughs  and  branches. 
How  buoyant  the  earth  must  be,  when  every  twig  be 
comes  a  feather  !  "  And  she  moved  toward  Mr.  Raleigh, 
singing,  "  Oh,  would  I  had  wings  like  a  dove ! " 

"  And  here  are  those  which,  if  not  daffodils,  yet 

'  Come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty,'  " 

he  said,  giving  her  a  basket  of  hepaticas  and  winter-green. 

Marguerite  danced  away  with  the  purple  trophy,  and, 
emptying  a  carafe  into  a  dish  of  moss  that  stood  near, 
took  them  to  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  and,  sitting  on  the  foot 
stool,  began  to  rearrange  them.  It  was  curious  to  see, 
that,  while  Mrs.  Laudersdale  lifted  each  blossom  and  let 
the  stem  lie  across  her  hand,  she  suffered  it  to  fall  into 
the  place  designated  for  it  by  Marguerite's  fingers,  that 
sparkled  in  the  mosaic  till  double  wreaths  of  gold-threaded 
purple  rose  from  the  bed  of  vivid  moss  and  melted  into  a 
fringe  of  the  starry  spires  of  winter-green. 

"  Is  it  not  sweet  ?  "  said  she  then,  bending  over  it. 

"  They  have  no  scent,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  the  very  finest,  the  most  delicate,  a 
kind  of  aerial  perfume  ;  they  must  of  course  alchemize 
the  air  into  which  they  waste  their  fibres,  with  some 
sweetness." 

"  A  smell  of  earth  fresh  from  l  wholesome  drench  of 
14*  u 


322  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

April  rains,' "  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  taking  the  dish  of  white 
porcelain  between  his  brown,  slender  hands.  "  An  im 
mature  scent,  just  such  an  innocent  breath  as  should  pre 
cede  the  epigea,  that  spicy,  exhaustive  wealth  of  savor, 
that  complete  maturity  of  odor,  marriage  of  daphne  and 
linnsea.  The  charm  of  these  first  bidders  for  the  year's 
favor  is  neither  in  the  ethereal  texture,  the  depth  or  deli 
cacy  of  tint,  nor  the  large-lobed,  blood-stained,  ancient 
leaves.  This  imponderable  soul  gives  them  such  a  help 
less  air  of  babyhood." 

"  Is  fragrance  the  flower's  soul  ?  "  asked  Marguerite. 
"  Then  anemones  are  not  divinely  gifted.  And  yet  you 
said,  the  other  day,  that  to  paint  me  would  be  to  paint  an 
anemone." 

"  A  satisfactory  specimen  ^  in  the  family-gallery,"  said 
Mrs.  Purcell. 

"  A  flaw  in  the  indictment ! "  replied  Mr.  Raleigh.  "  I 
am  not  one  of  those  who  paint  the  lily." 

"  Though  you  've  certainly  added  a  perfume  to  the  vio 
let,"  remarked  Mr.  Frederic  Heath,  with  that  sweetly  lin 
gering  accent  familiarly  called  the  drawl,  as  he  looked  at 
the  hepaticas. 

"  I  don't  think  it  very  complimentary,  at  any  rate,"  con 
tinued  Marguerite.  "  They  are  not  lovely  after  bloom,  — 
only  the  little  pink-streaked,  budded  bells,  that  hang  so 
demurely.  Oui  !  I  have  exchanged  great  queen  mag 
nolias  for  rues  ;  what  will  you  give  me  for  pomegranates 
and  oleanders  ?  " 

"  Are  the  old  oleanders  in  the  garden  yet  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Laudersdale. 

"  Not  the  very  same.  The  hurricane  destroyed  those, 
years  ago ;  these  are  others,  grand  and  rosy  as  sunrise 
sometimes." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  323 

"  It  was  my  Aunt  Susanne  who  planted  those,  I  have 
heard." 

"  And  it  was  your  daughter  Rite  who  planted  these." 

"  She  buried  a  little  box  of  old  keepsakes  at  its  foot, 
after  her  brother  had  examined  them,  —  a  ring  or  two,  a 
coin  from  which  she  broke  and  kept  one  half —  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  we  found  the  little  box,  —  found  it  when 
Mr.  Heath  was  in  Martinique,  —  all  rusted  and  moulded 
and  falling  apart,  and  he  wears  that  half  of  the  coin  on 
his  watch-chain.  See  !  " 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  glanced  up  indifferently,  but  Mrs. 
Purcell  sprang  from  her  elegant  lounging  and  bent  to 
look  at  her  brother's  chain. 

"  How  odd  that  I  never  noticed  it,  Fred ! "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  And  how  odd  that  I  should  wear  the  same  !  " 
And,  shaking  her  chatelaine,  she  detached  a  similar 
affair. 

They  were  placed  side  by  side  in  Mr.  Raleigh's  hand ; 
they  matched  entirely,  and,  so  united,  they  formed  a  sin 
gular  French  coin  of  value  and  antiquity,  the  missing 
figures  on  one  segment  supplied  by  the  other,  the  em 
bossed  profile  continued  and  lost  on  each,  the  scroll  begun 
by  this  and  ended  by  that ;  they  were  plainly  severed 
portions  of  the  same  piece. 

"  And  this  was  buried  by  your  Aunt  Susanne  Le 
Blanc?"  asked  Mrs.  Purcell,  turning  to  Mrs.  Lauders 
dale  again,  with  a  flush  on  her  cheek. 

"  So  I  presume." 

"  Strange !  And  this  was  given  to  mamma  by  her 
mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Susan  White.  There 's 
some  diablerie  about  it." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  part  of  the  ceremony  of  money-hiding," 
said  Mr.  Raleigh.  "  Kidd  always  buried  a  little  imp  with 


324  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

his  pots  of  gold,  you  know,  to  work  deceitful  charms  on 
the  finder." 

"  Did  he  ?  "  said  Marguerite,  earnestly. 

They  all  laughed  thereat,  and  went  in  to  tea. 


III. 

SPRING  at  last  stole  placidly  into  summer,  and  Mar 
guerite,  who  was  always  shivering  in  the  house,  kept  the 
company  in  a  whirl  of  out-door  festivals. 

"  We  have  not  lived  so,  Roger,"  said  Mrs.  McLean, 
"  since  the  summer  when  you  went  away.  We  all  follow 
the  caprice  of  this  child  as  a  ship  follows  the  little  com 
pass-needle." 

And  she  made  room  for  the  child  beside  her  in  the  car 
riage  ;  for  Mr.  Raleigh  was  about  driving  them  into  town, 
—  an  exercise  which  had  its  particular  charm  for  Mar 
guerite,  not  only  for  the  glimpse  it  afforded  of  the  gay, 
bustling  inland-city-life,  but  for  opportunities  of  securing 
the  reins  and  of  occasioning  panics.  Lately,  however,  she 
had  resigned  the  latter  pleasure,  and  sat  with  quiet  pro 
priety  by  Mrs.  McLean.  Frequently,  also,  she  took  long 
drives  alone  or  with  one  of  the  children,  holding  the  reins 
listlessly,  and  ranging  the  highway  unobservantly  for 
miles  around. 

Mrs.  Purcell  declared  the  girl  was  homesick  ;  Mrs. 
Heath  doubted  if  the  climate  agreed  with  her :  she  nei 
ther  denied  nor  affirmed  their  propositions. 

Mr.  Heath  came  and  went  from  the  city  where  her 
father  was,  without  receiving  any  other  notice  than  she 
would  have  bestowed  on  a  peaceful  walking-stick  ;  his  at 
tentions  to  her  during  his  visits  were  unequivocal ;  she 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  325 

accepted  them  as  nonchalantly  as  from  a  waiter  at  table. 
On  the  occasion  of  his  last  stay,  there  had  been  a  some 
what  noticeable  change  in  his  demeanor  :  he  wore  a  trifle 
of  quite  novel  assurance ;  his  supreme  bearing  was  not 
mitigated  by  the  restless  sparkle  of  his  eye  ;  and  in  ad 
dressing  her  his  compliments,  he  spoke  as  one  having 
authority. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale,  so  long  and  so  entirely  accustomed 
to  the  reception  of  homage  that  it  cost  her  no  more  reflec 
tion  than  an  imperial  princess  bestows  on  the  taxes  that 
produce  her  tiara,  turned  slowly  from  the  apparent  apathy 
thus  induced  on  her  modes  of  thought,  passivity  lost  in  a 
gulf  of  anxious  speculation,  while  she  watched  the  theatre 
of  events  with  a  glow,  like  wine  in  lamplight,  that  burned 
behind  her  dusky  eyes  till  they  had  the  steady  penetration 
of  some  wild  creature's.  She  may  have  wondered  if  Mr. 
Raleigh's  former  feeling  were  yet  alive ;  she  may  have 
wondered  if  Marguerite  had  found  the  spell  that  once  she 
found  herself;  she  may  have  been  kept  in  thrall  by  igno 
rance  if  he  had  ever  read  that  old  confessing  note  of  hers : 
whatever  she  thought  or  hoped  or  dreaded,  she  said 
nothing,  —  and  did  nothing. 

Of  all  those  who  concerned  themselves  in  the  affair  of 
Marguerite's  health  and  spirits,  Mr.  Raleigh  was  the  only 
one  who  might  have  solved  their  mystery.  Perhaps  the 
thought  of  wooing  the  child  whose  mother  he  had  once 
loved  was  sufficiently  repugnant  to  him  to  overcome  the 
tenderness  which  every  one  was  forced  to  feel  for  so  beau 
tiful  a  creation.  I  have  not  said  that  Marguerite  was  this, 
before,  because,  until  brought  into  contrast  with  her  moth 
er,  her  extreme  loveliness  was  too  little  positive  to  be  felt ; 
now  it  was  the  e^nescent  shimmer  of  pearl  to  the  deep 
perpetual  fire  of  the  carbuncle.  Softened,  as  she  became, 


326  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

from  her  versatile  cheeriness,  she  moved  round  like  a 
moonbeam,  and  frequently  had  a  bewildered  grace,  as  if 
she  knew  not  what  to  make  of  herself.  Mr.  Raleigh, 
from  the  moment  in  which  he  perceived  that  she  no 
longer  sought  his  company,  retreated  into  his  own  apart 
ments,  and  was  less  seen  by  the  others  than  ever. 

Returning  from  the  drive  on  the  morning  of  Mrs.  Mc 
Lean's  last  recorded  remark,  Mr.  Raleigh,  who  had  re 
mained  to  give  the  horses  in  charge  to  a  servant,  was 
about  to  pass,  when  the  tableau  within  the  drawing-room 
caught  his  attention  and  altered  his  course.  He  entered, 
and  flung  his  gloves  down  on  a  table  and  himself  on  the 
floor  beside  Marguerite  and  the  children.  She  appeared 
to  be  revisited  by  a  ray  of  her  old  sunshine,  and  had 
unrolled  a  giant  parcel  of  candied  sweets,  which  their 
mother  would  have  sacrificed  on  the  shrine  of  jalap  and 
senna,  the  purchase  of  a  surreptitious  moment,  and  was 
now  dispensing  the  brilliant  comestibles  with  much  ill- 
subdued  glee.  One  mouth,  that  had  bitten  off  the  head 
of  a  checkerberry  chanticleer,  was  convulsed  with  the 
acidulous  tickling  of  sweetened  laughter,  till,  the  biter  bit, 
a  metamorphosis  into  the  animal  of  attack  seemed  immi 
nent  ;  at  the  hands  of  another  a  warrior  in  barley-sugar 
was  experiencing  the  vernacular  for  defeat  with  reproving 
haste  and  gravity ;  and  there  was  yet  another  little 
omnivorous  creature  that  put  out  both  hands  for  in(Jis- 
criminate  snatching,  and  made  a  spectacle  of  himself  in 
a  general  plaster  of  gum-arabic-drop  and  brandy-smash. 

"  Contraband  ?  "  said  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  And  sweet  as  stolen  fruit,"  said  Marguerite.  "  Ursule 
makes  the  richest  comfits,  but  not  so  innumerable  as  these. 
Mamma  and  I  owe  our  sweet-tooth  ami  honey-lip  to  bits 
of  her  concoction." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  327 

"Mrs.  Purcell,"  asked  Mr.  Raleigh,  as  that  lady  en 
tered,  "  is  this  little  banquet  no  seduction  to  you  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  she  replied. 

"  Drinking  honey-dew  from  acorns." 

"  Laudersdale  as  ever  ! "  ejaculated  she,  looking  over  his 
shoulder.  "  I  thought  you  had  *  no  sympathy  with '  —  " 

"  But  I  'like  to  see  other  folks  take '  —  " 

"  Their  sweets,  in  this  case.  No,  thank  you,"  she  con 
tinued,  after  this  little  rehearsal  of  the  past.  "  What  are 
you  poisoning  all  this  brood  for  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Laudersdale  eats  sweetmeats ;  they  don't  poison 
her,"  remonstrated  Katy. 

"  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  my  dear,  is  exceptional." 

Katy  opened  her  eyes  as  if  she  had  been  told  that  the 
object  of  her  adoration  was  Japanese. 

"  It  is  the  last  grain  that  completes  the  transformation, 
as  your  story-books  have  told ;  and  one  day  you  will  see 
her  stand  a  statue  of  sugar,  and  melt  away  in  the  sun. 
To  be  sure,  the  whole  air  will  be  sweetened,  but  there 
will  be  no  Mrs.  Laudersdale." 

"  For  shame,  Mrs.  Purcell ! "  cried  Marguerite.  "  You  're 
not  sweet-tempered,  or  you  'd  like  sweet  dainties  yourself. 
Here  are  nuts  swathed  in  syrup ;  you  '11  have  none  of 
them  ?  Here  are  health  and  slumber  and  idle  dreams  in 
a  chocolate-drop.  Not  a  chocolate  ?  Here  are  dates ;  if 
you  would  n't  choose  the  things  in  themselves,  truly  you 
would  for  their  associations?  See,  when  you  take  up 
one,  what  a  picture  follows  it :  the  plum  that  has  swung 
at  the  top  of  a  palm,  and  crowded  into  itself  the  glow  of 
those  fierce  noon-suns.  It  has  been  tossed  by  the  sirocco ; 
it  has  been  steeped  in  reeking  dew ;  there  was  always 
stretched  above  it  the  blue  intense  tent  of  a  heaven  full 
of  light,  —  always  below  and  around,  long  level  reaches 


328  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

of  hot  shining  sand ;  the  phantoms  of  waning  desert- 
moons  have  hovered  over  it ;  swarthy  Arab  chiefs  have 
encamped  under  it ;  it  has  threaded  the  narrow  streets  of 
Damascus  —  that  city  the  most  beautiful  —  on  the  backs 
of  gaunt  gray  dromedaries ;  it  has  crossed  the  seas,  — 
and  all  for  you,  if  you  take  it,  this  product  of  desert  free 
dom,  torrid  winds,  and  fervid  suns  ! " 

"  I  might  swallow  the  date,"  said  Mrs.  Purcell,  "  but 
Africa  would  choke  me." 

Mr.  Raleigh  had  remained  silent  for  some  time,  watch 
ing  Marguerite  as  she  talked.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
youth  was  returning ;  he  forgot  his  resolves,  his  desires, 
and  became  aware  of  nothing  in  the  world  but  her  voice. 
Just  before  she  concluded,  she  grew  conscious  of  his  gaze, 
and  almost  at  once  ceased  speaking ;  her  eyes  fell  a  mo 
ment  to  meet  it,  and  then  she  would  have  flashed  them 
aside,  but  that  it  was  impossible;  lucid  lakes  of  light, 
they  met  his  own ;  she  was  forced  to  continue  it,  to 
return  it,  to  forget  all,  as  he  was  forgetting,  in  that  long 
look. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Purcell,  stooping  to  pick 
up  a  trifle  on  the  matting. 

"  G'est  a  moi ! "  cried  Marguerite,  springing  up  sud 
denly,  and  spilling  all  the  fragments  of  the  feast,  to  the 
evident  satisfaction  of  the  lately  neglected  guests. 

"Yours?"  said  Mrs.  Purcell  with  coolness,  still  re 
taining  it.  "Why  do  you  think  in  French?" 

"  Because  I  choose  ! "  said  Marguerite,  angrily.  "  I 
mean  —  How  do  you  know  that  I  do  ?  " 

"  Your  exclamation,  when  highly  excited  or  contemp 
tuously  indifferent,  is  always  in  that  tongue." 

"  Which  am  I  now  ?  " 

"  Really,  you  should  know  best.     Here  is  your  baw- 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY,  329 

ble " ;  and  Mrs.  Purcell  tossed  it  lightly  into  her  hands, 
and  went  out. 

It  was  a  sheath  of  old  morocco.  The  motion  loosened 
the  clasp,  and  the  contents,  an  ivory  oval  and  a  cushion 
of  faded  silk,  fell  to  the  floor.  Mr.  Raleigh  bent  and  re- 
gathered  them ;  there  was  nothing  for  Marguerite  but  to 
allow  that  he  should  do  so.  The  oval  had  reversed  in 
falling,  so  that  he  did  not  see  it ;  but,  glancing  at  her  be 
fore  returning  it,  he  found  her  face  and  neck  dyed  deeper 
than  the  rose.  Still  reversed,  he  was  about  to  relinquish 
it,  when  Mrs.  McLean  passed,  and,  hearing  the  scamper 
ing  of  little  feet  as  they  fled  with  booty,  she  also  entered. 

"  Seeing  you,  reminds  me,  Roger,"  said  she.  "  What 
do  you  suppose  has  become  of  that  little  miniature  I  told 
you  of?  I  was  showing  it  to  Marguerite  the  other  night, 
and  have  not  seen  it  since.  I  must  have  mislaid  it,  and 
it  was  particularly  valuable,  for  it  was  some  nameless 
thing  that  Mrs.  Heath  found  among  her  mother's  trinkets, 
and  I  begged  it  of  her,  it  was  such  a  perfect  likeness  of 
you.  Can  you  have  seen  it  ?  " 

"•  Yes,  I  have  it,"  he  replied.  "  And  have  n't  I  as  good 
a  right  to  it  as  any  ?  " 

He  extended  his  arm  for  the  case  which  Marguerite 
held,  and  so  touching  her  hand,  the  touch  was  more  lin 
gering  than  it  needed  to  be ;  but  he  avoided  looking  at 
her,  or  he  would  have  seen  that  the  late  color  had  fled 
till  the  face  was  whiter  than  marble. 

"  Your  old  propensities,"  said  Mrs.  McLean.  "  You 
always  will  be  a  boy.  By  the  way,  what  do  you  think 
6f  Mary  Purcell's  engagement?  I  thought  she  would 
always  be  a  girl." 

"  Ah !  McLean  was  speaking  of  it  to  me.  Why  were 
they  not  engaged  before  ?  " 


330  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  Because  she  was  not  an  heiress." 

Mr.  Raleigh  raised  his  eyebrows  significantly. 

"  He  could  not  afford  to  marry  any  but  an  heiress," 
explained  Mrs.  McLean. 

Mr.  Raleigh  fastened  the  case  and  restored  -it  silently. 

"  You  think  that  absurd  ?  You  would  not  marry  an 
heiress  ?  " 

Mr,  Raleigh  did  not  at  once  reply. 

"  You  would  not,  then,  propose  to  an  heiress  ?  " 

«  No." 

As  this  monosyllable  fell  from  his  lips,  Marguerite's 
motion  placed  her  beyond  hearing.  She  took  a  few  swift 
steps,  but  paused  and  leaned  against  the  wall  of  the  gable 
for  support,  and,  placing  her  hand  upon  the  sun-beat 
bricks,  she  felt  a  warmth  in  them  which  there  seemed  to 
be  neither  in  herself  nor  in  the  wide  summer-air. 

Mrs.  Purcell  came  along,  opening  her  parasol. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  orchard,"  said  she  ;  "  cherries  are 
ripe.  Hear  the  robins  and  the  bells  !  Do  you  want  to 
come  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Marguerite. 

"  There  are  bees  in  the  orchard,  too,  —  the  very  bees, 
for  aught  I  know,  that  Mr.  Raleigh  used  to  watch  thir 
teen  years  ago,  or  their  great-grand-bees,  —  they  stand  in 
the  same  place." 

"You  knew  Mr.  Raleigh  thirteen  years  ago?"  she 
asked,  glancing  up  curiously. 

"  Yes." 

"Well?" 

"  Very  well." 

"  How  much  is  very  well  ?  " 

"  He  proposed  to  me.  Smother  your  anger  ;  he  did  n't 
care  for  me ;  some  one  told  him  that  I  cared  for  him." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  331 

«  Did  you  ?  " 

"This  is  what  the  Inquisition  calls  applying  the 
question  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Purcell.  "  Nonsense,  dear  child ! 
he  was  quite  in  love  with  somebody  else." 

«  And  that  was  —  ?" 

"  He  supposed  your  mother  to  be  a  widow.  Well,  if 
you  won't  come,  I  shall  go  alone  and  read  my  L' Allegro 
under  the  boughs,  with  breezes  blowing  between  the 
lines.  I  can  show  you  some  little  field-mice  like  un*- 
fledged  birds,  and  a  nest  that  protrudes  now  and  then 
glittering  eyes  and  cleft  fangs." 

Marguerite  was  silent ;  the  latter  commodity  was  de 
trop.  Mrs.  Purcell  adjusted  her  parasol  and  passed  on. 

Here,  then,  was  the  whole  affair.  Marguerite  pressed 
her  hands  to  her  forehead,  as  if  fearful  some  of  the 
swarming  thoughts  should  escape ;  then  she  hastened  up 
the  slope  behind  the  house,  and  entered  and  hid  herself 
in  the  woods.  Mr.  Raleigh  had  loved  her  mother.  Of 
course,  then,  there  was  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  that  her 
mother  had  loved  him.  Horrible  thought!  and  she 
shook  like  an  aspen,  beneath  it.  For  a  time  it  seemed 
that  she  loathed  him,  —  that  she  despised  the  woman 
who  had  given  him  regard.  The  present  moment  was 
a  point  of  dreadful  isolation ;  there  was  no  past  to  .re 
member,  no  future  to  expect ;  she  herself  was  alone  and 
forsaken,  the  whole  world  dark,  and  heaven  blank.  But 
that  could  not  be  forever.  As  she  sat  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  old  words,  old  looks,  flashed  on  her 
recollection  ;  she  comprehended  what  long  years  of  silent 
suffering  the  one  might  have  endured,  what  barren  yearn 
ing  the  other ;  she  saw  how  her  mother's  haughty  calm 
might  be  the  crust  on  a  lava-sea ;  she  felt  what  desolation 
must  have  filled  Roger  Raleigh's  heart,  when  he  found 


332  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

that  she  whom  he  had  loved  no  longer  lived,  that  he  had 
cherished  a  lifeless  ideal,  —  for  Marguerite  knew  from 
his  own  lips  that  he  had  not  met  the  same  woman  whom 
he  had  left. 

She  started  up,  wondering  what  had  led  her  upon  this 
train  of  thought,  why  she  had  pursued  it,  and  what  reason 
she  had  for  the  pain  it  gave  her.  A  step  rustled  among 
the  distant  last-year's  leaves ;  there  in  the  shadowy  wood, 
where  she  did  not  dream  of  concealing  her  thoughts, 
where  it  seemed  that  all  Nature  shared  her  confidence, 
this  step  was  like  a  finger  laid  on  the  hidden  sore.  She 
paused,  a  glow  rushed  over  her  frame,  and  her  face  grew 
hot  with  the  convicting  flush.  Consternation,  bitter  con 
demnation,  shame,  impetuous  resolve,  swept  over  her  in 
one  torrent,  and  the  saw  that  she  had  a  secret  which 
every  one  might  touch,  and  touching,  cause  to  sting.  She 
hurried  onward  through  the  wood,  unconscious  how  rap 
idly  or  how  far  her  heedless  course  extended.  She 
sprang  across  gaps  at  which  she  would  another  time  have 
shuddered  ;  she  clambered  over  fallen  trees,  penetrated 
thickets  of  tangled  brier,  and  followed  up  the  shrunken 
beds  of  streams,  till  suddenly  the  wood  grew  thin  again, 
and  she  emerged  upon  an  open  space,  —  a  long  lawn, 
where  the  grass  grew  rank  and  tall  as  in  deserted  grave 
yards,  and  on  which  the  afternoon  sunshine  lay  with  most 
dreary,  desolate  emphasis.  Marguerite  had  scarcely 
comprehended  herself  before ;  now,  as  she  looked  out  on 
the  utter  loneliness  of  the  place,  all  joyousness,  all  content, 
seemed  wiped  from  the  world.  She  leaned  against  a 
tree  where  the  building  rose  before  her,  old  and  forsaken, 
washed  by  rains,  beaten  by  winds.  A  blind  slung  open, 
loose  on  a  broken  hinge ;  the  emptiness  of  the  house 
looked  through  it  like  a  spirit.  The  woodbine  seemed 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  333 

the  only  living  thing  about  it,  —  the  woodbine  that  had 
swung  its  clusters,  heavy  as  grapes  of  Eshcol,  along  one 
wall,  and,  falling  from  support,  had  rioted  upon  the  ground 
in  masses  of  close-netted  luxuriance. 

Standing  and  surveying  the  silent  scene  of  former 
gayety,  a  figure  came  down  the  slope,  crushing  the  grass 
with  lingering  tread,  checked  himself,  and,  half-reversed, 
surveyed  it  with  her.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  approach, 
her  next  to  retreat;  by  a  resolution  of  forces  she  re 
mained  where  she  was.  Mr.  Raleigh's  position  prevented 
her  from  seeing  the  expression  of  his  face ;  from  his  atr 
titude  seldom  was  anything  to  be  divined.  He  turned 
with  a  motion  of  the  arm,  as  if  he  swung  off  a  burden, 
and  met  her  eye.  He  laughed,  and  drew  near. 

"I  am  tempted  to  return  to  that  suspicion  of  mine 
when  I  first  met  you,  Miss  Marguerite,"  said  he.  "  You 
take  shape  from  solitude  and  empty  air  as  easily  as  a 
Dryad  steps  from  her  tree." 

"  There  are  no  Dryads  now,"  said  Marguerite,  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Then  you  confess  to  being  a  myth  ?  " 

"  I  confess  to  being  tired,  Mr.  Raleigh." 

Mr.  Raleigh's  manner  changed,  at  her  petulance  and 
fatigue,  to  the  old  air  of  protection,  and  he  gave  her  his 
hand.  It  was  pleasant  to  be  the  object  of  his  care,  to  be 
with  him  as  at  first,  to  renew  their  former  relation.  She 
acquiesced,  and  walked  beside  him. 

"  You  have  had  some  weary  travel,"  he  said,  "  and 
probably  not  more  than  half  of  it  in  the  path." 

And  she  feared  he  would  glance  at  the  rents  in  her 
frock,  forgetting  that  they  were  not  sufficiently  infrequent 
facts  to  be  noticeable. 

"  He  treats  me  like  a  child,"  she  thought.     "  He  ex- 


334  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

pects  me  to  tear  my  dress  !  He  forgets  that,  while  thir 
teen  years  were  making  a  statue  of  her,  they  were  making 
a  woman  of  me  !  "  And  she  snatched  away  her  hand. 

"  I  have  the  boat  below,"  he  said,  without  paying  atten 
tion  to  the  movement.  "  You  took  the  longest  way  round, 
which,  you  have  heard,  is  the  shortest  way  home.  You 
have  never  been  on  the  lake  with  me."  And  he  was 
about  to  assist  her  in. 

She  stepped  back,  hesitating. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said.  "  It  is  very  well  to  think  of  walk 
ing  back,  but  it  must  end  in  thinking.  You  have  no  im 
petus  now  to  send  you  over  another  half-dozen  miles  of 
wood-faring,  no  pique  to  sting  lo." 

And  before  she  could  remonstrate,  she  was  lifted  in, 
the  oars  had  flashed  twice,  and  there  was  deep  water  be 
tween  herself  and  shore.  She  was  in  reality  too  much 
fatigued  to  be  vexed,  and  she  sat  silently  watching  the 
spaces  through  which  they  glanced,  and  listening  to  the 
rhythmic  dip  of  the  oars.  The  soft  afternoon  air,  with 
its  melancholy  sweetness  and  tinge  of  softer  hue,  hung 
round  them ;  the  water,  brown'  and  warm,  was  dimpled 
with  the  flight  of  myriad  insects  ;  they  wound  among  the 
islands,  —  a  path  one  of  them  knew  of  old.  From  the 
shelving  rocks  a  wild  convolvulus  drooped  its  twisted  bells 
across  them,  a  sweet-brier  snatched  at  her  hair  in  passing, 
a  sudden  elder-tree  shot  out  its  creamy  panicles  above, 
they  ripped  up  drowsy  beds  of  folded  lily-blooms. 

Mr.  Raleigh,  lifting  one  oar,  gave  the  boat  a  sharp 
curve  and  sent  it  out  on  the  open  expanse  ;  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  no  right  thus  to  live  two  lives  in 
one.  Still  he  wished  to  linger,  and  with  now  and  then 
a  lazy  movement  they  slipped  along.  He  leaned  one 
arm  on  the  upright  oar,  like  a  river-god,  and  from  the 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  335 

store  of  boat-songs  in  his  remembrance,  sang  now  and 
then  a  strain.  Marguerite  sat  opposite  and  rested  along 
the  side,  content  for  the  moment  to  glide  on  as  they  were, 
without  a  reference  to  the  past  in  her  thought,  without  a 
dream  of  the  future.  Peach-bloom  fell  on  the  air,  warmed 
all  objects  into  mellow  tint,  and  reddened  deep  into  sun 
set.  Tinkling  cow-bells,  where  the  kine  wound  out  from 
pasture,  stole  faintly  over  the  lake,  reflected  dyes  suffused 
it  and  spread  around  them  sheets  of  splendid  color,  out 
lines  grew  ever  dimmer  on  the  distant  shores,  a  purple 
tone  absorbed  all  brilliance,  the  shadows  fell,  and,  bright 
with  angry  lustre,  the  planet  Mars  hung  in  the  south,  and 
struck  a  spear,  redder  than  rubies,  down  the  placid  mir 
ror.  The  dew  gathered  and  lay  sparkling  on  the  thwarts 
as  they  touched  the  garden-steps  ;  and  they  mounted  and 
traversed  together  the  alleys  of  odorous  dark.  They 
entered  at  Mr.  Raleigh's  door,  and  stepped  thence  into 
the  main  hall,  where  they  could  see  the  broad  light  from 
the  drawing-room  windows  streaming  over  the  lawn  be 
yond.  Mrs.  Laudersdale  came  down  the  hall  to  meet 
them. 

"  My  dear  Rite,"  she  said,  "  I  have  been  alarmed,  and 
have  sent  the  servants  out  for  you.  You  left  home  in 
the  morning,  and  you  have  not  dined.  Your  father  and 
Mr.  Heath  have  arrived.  Tea  is  just  over,  and  we  are 
waiting  for  you  to  dress  and  go  into  town ;  it  is  Mrs. 
Manton's  evening,  you  recollect." 

"  Must  I  go,  mamma  ? "  asked  Marguerite,  after  this 
statement  of  facts.  "  Then  I  must  have  tea  first.  Mr. 
Raleigh,  I  remember  my  wasted  sweetmeats  of  the  morn 
ing  with  a  pang.  How  long  ago  that  seems  !  " 

In  a  moment  her  face  told  her  regret  for  the  allusion, 
and  she  hastened  into  the  dining-room. 


336  MIDSUMMEK  AND  MAY. 

Mr.  Raleigh  and  Marguerite  had  a  merry  tea,  and 
Mrs.  Purcell  came  and  poured  it  out  for  them. 

"  Quite  like  the  days  when  we  went  gypsying,"  said 
she,  at  a  moment  near  its  conclusion. 

"  We  have  just  come  from  the  Bawn,  Miss  Marguerite 
and  I,"  he  replied. 

"  You  have  ?  "  I  never  go  near  it.  Did  it  break  your 
heart  ?  " 

Mr.  Raleigh  laughed. 

"  Is  Mr.  Raleigh's  heart  such  a  delicate  organ  ?  "  asked 
Marguerite. 

"  Once,  you  might  have  been  answered  negatively ; 
now,  it  must  be  like  the  French  banner,  perce,  troue, 
crible  —  " 

"  Pray,  add  the  remainder  of  your  quotation,"  said  he, 
—  " sans peur  et  sans  reproche" 

"  So  that  a  trifle  would  reduce  it  to  flinders,"  said  Mrs. 
Purcell,  without  minding  his  interruption. 

"  Would  you  give  it  such  a  character,  Miss  Rite  ?  " 
questioned  Mr.  Raleigh,  lightly. 

"  I  ?     I  don't  see  that  you  have  any  heart  at  all,  sir." 

"  I  swallow  my  tea  and  my  mortification." 

"  Do  you  remember  your  first  repast  at  the  Bawn  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Purcell. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  And  the  jelly  like  molten  rubies  that  I  made  ?  It 
keeps  well."  And  she  moved  a  glittering  dish  toward 
him. 

"  All  things  of  that  summer  keep  well,"  he  replied. 

"  Except  yourself,  Mr.  Raleigh.  The  Indian  jugglers 
are  practising  upon  us,  I  suspect.  You  are  no  more  like 
the  same  person  who  played  sparkling  comedy  and  sang 
passionate  tragedy  than  this  bamboo  stick  is  like  that  wil 
low  wand." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  337 

"  I  wish  I  could  retort,  Miss  Helen,"  he  replied.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon  !  " 

She  was  silent,  and  her  eye  fell  and  rested  on  the 
sheeny  damask  beneath.  He  glanced  at  her  keenly  an 
instant,  then  handed  her  his  cup,  saying,  — 

"  May  I  trouble  you  ?  " 

She  looked  up  again,  a  smile  breaking  over  the  face 
wanner  than  youth,  but  which  the  hour's  gayety  had 
flushed  to  a  forgetfulness  of  intervening  years,  extended 
her  left  hand  for  the  cup,  still  gazing  and  smiling. 

Various  resolves  had  flitted  through  Marguerite's  mind 
since  her  entrance.  One,  that  she  would  yet  make  Mr. 
Raleigh  feel  her  power,  yielded  to  shame  and  self-con 
tempt,  and  she  despised  herself  for  a  woman  won  un- 
wooed.  But  she  was  not  sure  that  she  was  won.  Per 
haps,  after  all,  she  did  not  care  particularly  for  Mr. 
Raleigh.  He  was  much  older  than  she ;  he  was  quite 
grave,  sometimes  satirical ;  she  knew  nothing  about  him  ; 
she  was  slightly  afraid  of  him.  On  the  whole,  if  she 
consulted  her  taste,  she  would  have  preferred  a  younger 
hero  ;  she  would  rather  be  the  Fornarina  for  a  Raffaello ; 
she  had  fancied  her  name  sweetening  the  songs  of  Giraud 
Riquier,  the  last  of  the  Troubadours ;  and  she  did  not 
believe  Beatrice  Portinari  to  be  so  excellent  among 
women,  so  different  from  other  girls,  that  her  name 
should  have  soared  so  far  aloft  with  that  escutcheon  of 
the  golden  wing  on  a  field  azure.  "  But  they  say  that 
there  cannot  be  two  epic  periods  in  a  nation's  literature," 
thought  Marguerite,  hurriedly;  "so  that  a  man  who 
might  have  been  Homer  once  will  be  nothing  but  a  gen 
tleman  now."  And  at  this  point,  having  decided  that 
Mr.  Raleigh  was  fully  worth  unlimited  love,  she  added  to 
her  resolves  a  desire  for  content  with  whatever  amount 
15  v 


338  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

of  friendly  affection  he  chose  to  bestow  upon  her.  And 
all  this,  while  sifting  the  sugar  over  her  raspberries. 
Nevertheless,  she  felt,  in  the  midst  of  her  heroic  content, 
a  strange  jealousy  at  hearing  the  two  thus  discuss  days  in 
which  she  had  no  share,  and  she  watched  them  furtively, 
with  a  sharp,  hateful  suspicion  dawning  in  her  mind. 
Now,  as  Mrs.  Purcell's  eyes  met  Mr.  Raleigh's,  and  her 
hand  was  still  extended  for  the  cup,  Marguerite  fastened 
her  glance  on  its  glittering  ring,  and  said  abruptly,  — 

"  Mrs.  Purcell,  have  you  a  husband  ?  " 

Mrs.  Purcell  started  and  withdrew  her  hand,  as  if  it 
had  received  a  blow,  just  as  Mr.  Raleigh  relinquished  the 
cup,  so  that  between  them  the  bits  of  pictured  porcelain 
fell  and  splintered  over  the  equipage. 

"Naughty  child !  "  said  Mrs.  Purcell.  "  See  now  what 
you  've  done !  " 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Then  you  have  n't  any  bad  news  for  me  ?  Has  any 
one  heard  from  the  Colonel  ?  Is  he  ill  ?  " 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Marguerite,  rising  and  throwing  down 
her  napkin. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"  It  is  time  you  were  gone,  little  lady,"  said  Mr.  Ra 
leigh. 

She  approached  Mrs.  Purcell  and  passed  her  hand 
down  her  hair. 

"  What  pretty  soft  hair  you  have  !  "  said  she.  "  These 
braids  are  like  carved  gold-stone.  May  I  dress  it  with 
sweet-brier  to-night  ?  I  brought  home  a  spray." 

"  Rite  !  "  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale  sweetly,  at  the  door  ; 
and  Rite  obeyed  the  summons. 

In  a  half-hour  she  came  slowly  down  the  stairs,  untwist 
ing  a  long  string  of  her  mother's  abandoned  pearls,  great- 


MIDSUMMER  AND   MAY.  339 

pear-shaped  things  full  of  the  pale  lustre  of  gibbous  moons. 
She  wore  a  dress  of  white  samarcand,  with  a  lavish  orna 
ment  like  threads  and  purfiles  of  gold  upon  the  bodice,  and 
Ursule  followed  with  a  cloak.  As  she  entered  the  draw 
ing-room,  the  great  bunches  of  white  azalea,  which  her 
mother  had  brought  from  the  swamps,  caught  her  eye ; 
she  threw  down  the  pearls,  and  broke  off  rapid  clusters 
of  the  queenly  flowers,  touching  the  backward-curling 
hyacinthine  petals,  and  caressingly  passing  her  finger 
down  the  pale  purple  shadow  of  the  snowy  folds.  Di 
rectly  afterward  she  hung  them  in  her  breezy  hair,  from 
which,  by  natural  tenure,  they  were  not  likely  to  fall, 
bound  them  over  her  shoulders  and  in  her  waist. 

"  See  !  I  stand  like  Summer,"  she  said.  "  Wrapped  in 
perfume.  It  is  intoxicating." 

Just  then  two  hands  touched  her,  and  her  father  bent 
his  face  over  her.  She  flung  her  arms  round  him,  care 
less  of  their  fragile  array,  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks, 
laughed,  and  kissed  him  again.  She  did  not  speak,  for 
he  disliked  French,  and  English  sometimes  failed  her. 

"  Here  is  Mr.  Heath,"  her  father  said. 

She  partly  turned,  touched  that  gentleman's  hand  with 
the  ends  of  her  fingers,  and  nodded.  Her  father  whis 
pered  a  brief  sentence  in  her  ear. 

"  Jamais,  Monsieur,  jamais  !  "  she  exclaimed ;  then, 
with  a  quick  gesture  of  deprecation,  moved  again  toward 
him  ;  but  Mr.  Laudersdale  had  coldly  passed  to  make  his 
compliments  to  Mrs.  Heath. 

"  You  are  not  in  toilet  ?  "  said  Marguerite,  following 
him,  but  .speaking  with  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  No,  - —  Mrs.  Purcell  has  been  playing  for  me  a  little 
thing  I  always  liked, —  that  sweet  tuneful  afternoon  chid 
ing  of  the  Miller  and  the  Torrent." 


340  MIDSUMMER   AND  MAY. 

She  glanced  at  Mrs.  Purcell,  saw  that  her  dress  re 
mained  unaltered,  and  commenced  pulling  off  the  azaleas 
from  her  own. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go,"  she  murmured.  "  I  need  not ! 
Mamma  and  Mrs.  McLean  have  already  gone  in  the  other 
carriage." 

"  Come,  Marguerite,"  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  approach 
ing  her,  as  Mr.  Heath  and  his  mother  disappeared. 

"  I  am  not  going,"  she  replied,  quickly. 

"  Not  going  ?  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear,  but  you 
are ! "  and  he  took  her  hand. 

She  half  endeavored  to  withdraw  it,  threw  a  backward 
glance  over  her  shoulder  at  the  remaining  pair,  and,  led 
by  her  father,  went  out. 

Marguerite  did  her  best  to  forget  the  vexation,  was 
very  affable  with  her  father,  and  took  no  notice  of  any  of 
Mr.  Heath's  prolonged  remarks.  The  drive  was  at  best 
a  tiresome  one,  and  she  was  already  half  asleep  when  the 
carriage  stopped.  The  noise  and  light,  and  the  little 
vanities  of  the  dressing-room,  awakened  her,  and  she 
descended  prepared  for  conquest.  But,  after  a  few  mo 
ments,  it  all  became  weariness,  the  air  was  close,  the 
flowers  faded,  the  music  piercing.  The  toilets  did  not 
attract  nor  the  faces  interest  her.  She  danced  along  ab 
sent  and  spiritless,  when  her  eye,  raised  dreamily,  fell  on 
an  object  among  the  curtains  and  lay  fascinated  there. 
It  was  certainly  Mr.  Kaleigh  ;  but  so  little  likely  did  that 
seem,  that  she  again  circled  the  room,  with  her  eyes  bent 
upon  that  point,  expecting  it  to  vanish.  He  must  have 
come  in  the  saddle,  unless  a  coach  had  returned  for  him 
and  Mrs.  Purcell,  —  yes,  there  was  Mrs.  Purcell,  —  and 
she  wore  that  sweet-brier  fresh-blossoming  in  the  light. 
With  what  ease  she  moved !  —  it  must  always  have  been 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  341 

the  same  grace;  —  how  brilliant  she  was!  Youth  just 
enough  tarnished  to  beguile.  There,  —  she  was  going  to 
dance  with  Mr.  Raleigh.  No  ?  Where,  then  ?  Into  the 


music-room ! 


The  music-room  lay  beyond  an  anteroom  of  flowers 
and  prints,  and  was  closed  against  the  murmur  of  the  par 
lors  by  great  glass  doors.  Marguerite,  from  her  position, 
could  see  Mr.  Raleigh  seated  at  the  piano,  and  Mrs. 
Purcell  standing  by  his  side  ;  now  she  turned  a  leaf,  now 
she  stooped,  and  their  hands  touched  upon  the  keys. 
Marguerite  slipped  alone  through  the  dancers,  and  drew 
nearer.  There  were  others  in  the  music-room,  but  they 
were  at  a  distance  from  the  piano.  She  entered  the 
anteroom  and  sat  shadowed  among  the  great  fragrant 
shrubs.  A  group  already  stood  there,  eating  ices  and 
gayly  gossiping.  Mr.  Laudersdale  and  Mr.  Manton 
sauntered  in,  their  heads  together,  and  muttering  occult 
matters  of  business,  whose  tally  was  kept  with  forefinger 
on  palm. 

"  Where  is  Raleigh  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Manton,  looking  up. 
"  He  can  tell  us." 

"  At  his  old  occupation,"  answered  a  gentleman  from 
beside  Mrs.  Laudersdale,  "  flirting  with  forbidden  fruit." 

"  An  alliterative  amusement,"  said  Mrs.  Laudersdale. 

"  You  did  not  know  the  original  Raleigh  ?  "  continued 
the  gentleman.  "  But  he  always  took  pleasure  in  female 
society,;  yet,  singularly  enough,  though  fastidious  in 
choice,  it  was  only  upon  the  married  ladies  that  he  be 
stowed  his  platonisms.  I  observe  the  old  Adam  still 
clings  to  him." 

"  He  probably  found  more  liberty  with  them,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Laudersdale,  when  no  one  else  replied. 

"  Without  doubt  he  took  it." 


342  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  I  mean,  that,  where  attentions  are  known  to  intend 
nothing,  one  is  not  obliged  to  measure  them,  or  to  calcu 
late  upon  effects." 

"  Of  the  latter  no  one  can  accuse  Mr.  Raleigh ! "  said 
Mr.  Laudersdale,  hotly,  forgetting  himself  for  once. 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  lifted  her  large  eyes  and  laid  them 
on  her  husband's  face. 

"  Excuse  me !  excuse  me !  *  said  the  gentleman,  with 
natural  misconception.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  he  was  a 
friend  of  yours."  And  taking  a  lady  on  his  arm,  he 
withdrew. 

"  Nor  is  he ! "  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  in  lowest  tones, 
replying  to  his  wife's  gaze,  and  for  the  first  time  intimat 
ing  his  feeling.  "  Never,  never,  can  I  repair  the  ruin  he 
has  made  me!" 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  rose  and  stretched  out  her  arm, 
blindly. 

"  The  room  is  quite  dark,"  she  murmured ;  "  the  flow 
ers  must  soil  the  air.  Will  you  take  me  up-stairs  ?  " 

Meanwhile,  the  unconscious  object  of  their  remark  was 
turning  over  a  pile  of  pages  with  one  hand,  while  the 
other  trifled  along  the  gleaming  keys. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  he,  drawing  one  from  the  others, 
and  arranging  it  before  him,  —  a  gondel-lied. 

There  stole  from  his  fingers  the  soft,  slow  sound  of 
lapsing  waters,  the  rocking  on  the  tide,  the  long  sway  of 
some  idle  weed.  Here  a  jet  of  tune  was  flung  out  from 
a  distant  bark,  here  a  high  octave  flashed  like  a  passing 
torch  through  night-shadows  and  lofty  arching  darkness 
told  in  clustering  chords.  Now  the  boat  fled  through 
melancholy  narrow  ways  of  pillared  pomp  and  stately 
beauty,  now  floated  off  on  the  wide  lagoons  alone  with 
the  stars  and  sea.  Into  this  broke  the  passion  of  the 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  343 

gliding  lovers,  deep  and  strong,  giving  a  soul  to  the 
whole,  and  fading  away  again,  behind  its  wild  beating,  with 
the  silence  of  lapping  ripple  and  dipping  oar. 

Mrs.  Purcell,  standing  beside  the  player,  laid  a  care 
less  arm  across  the  instrument,  and  bent  her  face  above 
him  like  a  flower  languid  with  the  sun's  rays.  Suddenly 
the  former  smile  suffused  it,  and,  as  the  gondel-lied  fell 
into  a  slow  floating  accompaniment,  she  sang  with  a  swift, 
impetuous  grace,  and  in  a  sweet,  yet  thrilling  voice,  the 
Moth  Song.  The  shrill  music  and  murmur  from  the 
parlors  burst  all  at  once  in  muffled  volume  upon  the 
melody,  and,  turning,  they  both  saw  Marguerite  standing 
in  the  doorway,  like  an  angry  wraith,  and  flitting  back 
again.  Mrs.  Purcell  laughed,  but  took  up  the  thread  of 
her  song  again  where  it  was  broken,  and  carried  it  through 
to  the  end.  Then  Mr.  Raleigh  tossed  the  gondel-lied 
aside,  and  rising,  they  continued  their  stroll. 

"  You  have  more  than  your  share  of  the  good  things 
of  life,  Raleigh,"  said  Mr.  McLean,  as  the  person  ad 
dressed  poured  out  wine  for  Mrs.  Purcell.  "  Two  affairs 
on  hand  at  once  ?  You  drink  deep.  Light  and  spark 
ling,  —  thin  and  tart,  —  is  n't  it  Solomon  who  forbids 
mixed  drink?" 

"  I  was  never  the  worse  for  claret,"  replied  Mr.  Raleigh, 
bearing  away  the  glittering  glass. 

The  party  from  the  Lake  had  not  arrived  at  an  early 
hour,  and  it  was  quite  late  when  Mr.  Raleigh  made  his 
way  through  ranks  of  tireless  dancers,  toward  Marguerite. 
She  had  been  dancing  with  a  spirit  that  would  have  re 
sembled  joyousness  but  for  its  reckless  abandon.  She 
seemed  to  him  then  like  a  flame,  as  full  of  wilful,  sinuous 
caprice.  At  the  first  he  scarcely  liked  it,  but  directly  the 
artistic  side  of  his  nature  recognized  the  extreme  grace 


344  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

and  beauty  that  flowed  through  every  curve  of  move 
ment.  Standing  now,  the  corn-silk  hair  slightly  disor 
dered  and  still  blown  about  by  the  fan  of  some  one  near 
her,  her  eyes  sparkling  like  stars  in  the  dew-drops  of  wild 
wood-violets,  warm,  yet  weary,  and  a  flush  deepening 
her  cheek  with  color,  while  the  flowers  hung  dead  around 
her,  she  held  a  glass  of  wine  and  watched  the  bead 
swim  to  the  brim.  Mr.  Raleigh  approached  unaware, 
and  startled  her  as  he  spoke. 

"  It  is  au  gre  du  vent,  indeed,"  he  said,  —  "  just  the 
white  fluttering  butterfly,  —  and  now  that  the  wings  are 
clasped  above  this  crimson  blossom,  I  have  a  chance 
of  capture."  And  smiling,  he  gently  withdrew  the 
splendid  draught. 

"  Buvez,  Monsieur"  she  said  ;  "  Jest  le  vin  de  la  vie!  " 

"  Do  you  know  how  near  daylight  it  is  ?  "  he  replied. 
"  Mrs.  Laudersdale  fainted  in  the  heat,  and  your  father 
took  her  home  long  ago.  The  Heaths  went  also ;  and 
the  carriage  has  just  returned  for  the  only  ones  of  us  that 
are  left,  you  and  me." 

"  Is  it  ready  now  ?  " 

"Yes." 

«  So  am  I." 

And  in  a  few  moments  she  sat  opposite  him  in  the 
coach,  on  their  way  home. 

"  It  would  n't  be  possible  for  me  to  sit  on  the  box  and 
drive  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No." 

"  I  should  like  it,  in  this  wild  starlight,  these  flying 
clouds,  this  breath  of  dawn." 

Meeting  no  response,  she  sank  into  silence.  No  emo 
tion  can  keep  one  awake  forever,  and,  after  all  her  late 
fatigue,  the  roll  of  the  easy  vehicle  upon  the  springs  soon 


MIDSUMMER  AND   MAY.  345 

soothed  her  into  a  dreamy  state.  Through  the  efforts  at 
wakefulness,  she  watched  the  gleams  that  fell  within 
from  the  carriage-lamps,  the  strange  shadows  on  the 
roadside,  the  boughs  tossing  to  the  wind  and  flickering 
all  their  leaves  in  the  speeding  light ;  she  watched,  also, 
Mr.  Raleigh's  face,  on  which,  in  the  fitful  flashes,  she 
detected  a  look  of  utter  weariness. 

" Monsieur"  she  exclaimed,  with  angry  assertion,  " est 
ce  que  je  vous  gene  !  " 

"  Immensely,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh  with  a  smile ;  "  but, 
fortunately,  for  no  great  time." 

"  We  shall  be  soon  at  home?   Then  I  must  have  slept." 

"  Very  like.     What  did  you  dream  ?  " 

"  Oh,  one  must  not  tell  dreams  before  breakfast,  or  they 
come  to  pass,  you  know." 

"  No,  —  I  am  uninitiated  in  dream-craft.  Mr. 
Heath  —  " 

"  Monsieur"  she  cried,  in  sudden  heat,  "  il  me  semble 
que  je  comprends  les  Laocoons!  C'est  la  meme  chose 
avec  moi  I " 

As  she  spoke,  she  fell,  struck  forward  by  a  sudden 
shock,  the  coach  was  rocking  like  a  boat,  and  plunging 
down  unknown  gulfs.  Mr.  Raleigh  seized  her,  broke 
through  the  door,  and  sprang  out. 

"  Qu'avez  vous  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  The  old  willow  is  fallen  in  the  wind,"  he  replied. 

"  Quel  dommage  that  we  did  not  see  it  fall ! " 

"  It  has  killed  one  of  the  horses,  I  fear,"  he  continued, 
measuring,  as  formerly,  her  terror  by  her  levity.  "  Capua ! 
is  all  right  ?  Are  you  safe  ?  " 

"  Yah,  massa  !  "  responded  a  voice  from  the  depths,  as 
Capua  floundered  with  the  remaining  horse  in  the  thicket 
at  the  lake-edge  below.  "  Yah,  massa,  —  nufnn  harm 

15* 


346  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Ol'  Cap  in  water ;  spec  he  born  to  die  in  galluses ;  had 
nuff  chance  to  be  in  glory,  ef  't  was  n't.  I 's  done  beat 
wid  dis  yer  pony,  anyhow,  Mass'r  Raleigh.  Seems,  ef 
he  was  a  'sect  to  fly  in  de  face  ob  all  creation  an'  pay  no 
Mention  to  his  centre  o'  gravity,  he  might  walk  up  dis  yer 
hill ! " 

Mr.  Raleigh  left  Marguerite  a  moment,  to  relieve 
Capua's  perplexity.  Through  the  remaining  darkness, 
the  sparkle  of  stars,  and  wild  fling  of  shadows  in  the 
wind,  she  could  but  dimly  discern  the  struggling  figures, 
and  the  great  creature  trampling  and  snorting  below. 
She  remembered  strange  tales  out  of  the  Arabian  Nights, 
Bellerophon  and  the  Chimaera,  St.  George  and  the  Drag 
on  ;  she  waited,  half-expectant,  to  see  the  great  talon- 
stretched  wings  flap  up  against  the  slow  edge  of  dawn, 
where  Orion  lay,  a  pallid  monster,  watching  the  planet 
that  flashed  like  some  great  gem  low  in  a  crystalline 
west,  and  she  stepped  nearer,  with  a  kind  of  eager  and 
martial  spirit,  to  do  battle  in  turn. 

"  Stand  aside,  Una ! "  cried  Mr.  Raleigh,  who  had 
worked  in  a  determined,  characteristic  silence,  and  the 
horse's  head,  sharp  ear,  and  starting  eye  were  brought  to 
sight,  and  then  his  heaving  bulk. 

"  All  right,  massa ! "  cried  Capua,  after  a  moment's 
survey,  as  he  patted  the  trembling  flanks.  "  Pretty  tough 
ex'cise  dat !  Spect  Massam  Clean  be  mighty  high,  — 
his  best  cretur  done  about  killed  wid  dat  tree  ;  —  feared 
he  show  dis  nigger  a  stick  worf  two  o'  dat !  " 

"  We  had  like  to  have  finished  our  dance  on  nothing," 
said  Mr.  Raleigh  now,  looking  back  on  the  splintered 
wheels  and  panels.  "  Will  you  mount  ?  I  can  secure 
you  from  falling." 

"  Oh,  no,  —  I  can  walk  ;  it  is  only  a  little  way." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  347 

"  Reach  home  like  Cinderella  ?  If  you  had  but  one 
glass  slipper,  that  might  be  ;  but  in  satin  ones  it  is  impos 
sible."  And  she  found  herself  seated  aloft  before  quite 
aware  what  had  happened. 

Pacing  along,  they  talked  lightly,  with  the  gayety  nat 
ural  upon  excitement,  —  Capua  once  in  a  while  adding  a 
cogent  word.  As  they  opened  the  door,  Mr.  Raleigh 
paused  a  moment. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "  that  my  last  day  with  you  has 
been  crowned  by  such  adventures.  I  leave  the  Lake  at 
noon." 

She  hung,  listening,  with  a  backward  swerve  of  figure, 
and  regarding  him  in  the  dim  light  of  the  swinging  hall- 
lamp,  for  the  moment  half  petrified.  Suddenly  she  turned 
and  seized  his  hand  in  hers,  —  then  threw  it  off. 

"  Cher  ami"  she  murmured  hastily,  in  a  piercing  whis 
per,  like  some  articulate  sigh,  "  si  vous  m'aimez,  dites  le 
moi!" 

The  door  closed  in  the  draught,  the  drawing-room  door 
opened,  and  Mr.  Laudersdale  stepped  out,  having  been 
awaiting  their  return.  Mr.  Raleigh  caught  the  flash  of 
Marguerite's  eye  and  the  crimson  of  her  cheek,  as  she 
sprang  forward  up  the  stairs  and  out  of  sight. 

The  family  did  not  breakfast  together  the  next  day,  as 
politeness  chooses  to  call  the  first  hour  after  a  ball,  and 
Mr.  Raleigh  was  making  some  arrangements  preliminary 
to  his  departure,  in  his  own  apartments,  at  about  the  hour 
of  noon.  The  rooms  which  he  had  formerly  occupied 
Mrs.  McLean  had  always  kept  closed,  in  a  possibility 
of  his  return,  and  he  had  found  himself  installed  in  them 
upon  his  arrival.  The  library  was  to-day  rather  a  mel 
ancholy  room :  the  great  book-cases  did  not  enliven  it ; 
the  grand-piano,  with  its  old  dark  polish,  seemed  like  a 


348  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

coffin,  the  sarcophagus  of  unrisen  music ;  the  oak  panel 
ling  had  absorbed  a  richer  hue  with  the  years  than  once 
it  wore ;  the  portrait  of  his  mother  seemed  farther  with 
drawn  from  sight  and  air ;  Antinous  took  a  tawnier  tint 
in  his  long  reverie.  The  Summer,  past  her  height,  sent 
a  sad  beam,  the  signal  of  decay,  through  the  half-open 
shutters,  and  it  lay  wearily  on  the  man  who  sat  by  the 
long  table,  and  made  more  sombre  yet  the  faded  carpet 
and  cumbrous  chair. 

There  was  a  tap  on  the  door.  Mr.  Raleigh  rose  and 
opened  it,  and  invited  Mr.  Laudersdale  in.  The  latter 
gentleman  complied,  took  the  chair  resigned  by  the  other, 
but  after  a  few  words  became  quiet.  Mr.  Raleigh  made 
one  or  two  attempts  at  conversation,  then,  seeing  silence 
to  be  his  visitor's  whim,  suffered  him  to  indulge  it,  and 
himself  continued  his  writing.  Indeed,  the  peculiar  rela 
tions  existing  between  these  men  made  much  conversation 
difficult.  Mr.  Laudersdale  sat  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
floor  for  several  minutes,  and  his  countenance  wrapped 
in  thought.  Rising,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  long  room,  still  without  speak 
ing. 

"  Can  I  be  of  service  to  you,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  other, 
after  observing  him. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Raleigh,  I  am  led  to  think  you  can,"  —  still 
pacing  up  and  down,  and  vouchsafing  no  further  informa 
tion. 

At  last,  the  monotonous  movement  ended,  Mr.  Lauders 
dale  stood  at  the  window,  intercepting  the  sunshine,  and 
examined  some  memoranda. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Raleigh,"  he  resumed,  with  all  his  courtly 
manner,  upon  close  of  the  examination^  "  I  am  in  hopes 
that  you  may  assist  me  in  a  singular  dilemma." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  349 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  do  so." 

"  Thank  you.  This  is  the  affair.  About  a  year  ago, 
being  unable  to  make  my  usual  visit  to  my  daughter  and 
her  grandmother,  I  sent  there  in  my  place  our  head  clerk, 
young  Heath,  to  effect  the  few  transactions,  and  also  to 
take  a  month's  recreation,  —  for  we  were  all  overworked 
and  exhausted  by  the  crisis.  The  first  thing  he  proceeded 
to  do  was  to  fall  in  love  with  my  daughter.  Of  course  he 
did  not  mention  this  occurrence  to  me,  on  his  return. 
When  my  daughter,  arrived  at  New  York,  I  was  again 
detained,  myself,  and  sent  her  to  this  place  under  his  care. 
He  lingered  rather  longer  than  he  should  have  done, 
knowing  the  state  of  things  ;  but  I  suspected  nothing,  for 
the  idea  of  a  clerk's  marriage  with  the  heiress  of  the  great 
Martinique  estate  never  entered  my  mind ;  moreover,  I 
have  regarded  her  as  a  child ;  and  I  sent  him  back  with 
various  commissions  at  several  times,  —  once  on  business 
with  McLean,  once  to  obtain  my  wife's  signature  to  some 
sacrifice  of  property,  and  so  on.  I  really  beg  your  par 
don,  Mr.  Raleigh ;  it  is  painful  to  another,  I  am  aware, 
to  be  thrust  upon  family  confidences  —  " 

"  Pray,  sir,  proceed,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  wheeling  his 
chair  about. 

"  But  since  you  are  in  a  manner  connected  with  the 
affair  yourself —  " 

"  You  must  be  aware,  Mr.  Laudersdale,  that  my  chief 
desire  is  the  opportunity  you  afford  me." 

"  I  "believe  so.  I  am  happy  to  afford  it.  On  the  occa 
sion  of  Mr.  Heath's  last  visit  to  this  place,  Marguerite 
drew  attention  to  a  coin  whose  history  you  heard,  and  the 
other  half  of  which  Mrs.  Purcell  wore.  Mr.  Heath  ob 
tained  the  fragment  he  possessed  through  my  wife's  aunt, 
Susanne  Le  Blanc ;  Mrs.  Purcell  obtained  hers  through 


350  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

her  grandmother,  Susan  White.  Of  course,  these  good 
people  were  not  slow  to  put  the  coin  and  the  names  to 
gether  ;  Mr.  Heath,  moreover,  had  heard  portions  of  the 
history  of  Susanne  Le  Blanc  when  in  Martinique. 

"  On  resuming  his  duties  in  the  counting-house,  after 
this  little  incident,  one  day,  at  the  close  of  business-hours, 
he  demanded  from  me  the  remnants  of  this  history  with 
which  he  might  be  unacquainted.  When  I  paused,  he 
took  up  the  story  and  finished  it  with  ease,  and  —  and 
poetical  justice,  I  may  say,  Mr.  Raleigh.  Susanne  was  the 
sister  of  Mrs.  Laudersdale's  father,  though  far  younger 
than  he.  She  met  a  young  American  gentleman,  and 
they  became  interested  in  each  other.  Her  brother  de 
signed  her  for  a  different  fate, —  the  governor  of  the 
island,  indeed,  was  her  suitor,  —  and  forbade  their  inter 
course.  There  were  rumors  of  a  private  marriage ;  her 
apartments  were  searched  for  any  record,  note,  or  proof, 
unsuccessfully.  If  there  were  such,  they  had  been  left  in 
the  gentleman's  hands  for  better  concealment.  It  being 
supposed  that  they  continued  to  meet,  M.  Le  Blanc  pre 
vailed  upon  the  governor  to  arrest  the  lover  on  some  tri 
fling  pretence,  and  send  him  out  of  the  island.  Shortly 
afterward,  as  he  once  confessed  to  his  wife,  he  caused  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  death  and  funeral  obsequies 
of  each  to  reach  the  other.  Immediately  he  urged  the 
governor's  suit  again,  and  when  she  continued  to  resist. 
he  fixed  the  wedding-day  himself,  and  ordered  the  trous 
seau.  Upon  this,  one  evening,  she  buried  the  box  of 
trinkets  at  the  foot  of  the  oleanders,  and  disappeared  the 
next,  and  no  trace  of  her  was  found. 

"  When  I  reached  this  point,  young  Heath  turned  to  me 
with  that  impudently  nonchalant  drawl  of  his,  saying,  — 

" '  And  her  property,  sir  ? ' 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  351 

" '  That,'  I  replied  innocently,  '  which  comprised  half 
the  estate,  and  which  she  would  have  received  on  attain 
ing  the  requisite  age,  was  inherited  by  her  brother,  upon 
her  suicide.' 

"  *  Apparent  suicide,  you  mean/  said  he  ;  and  thereup 
on  took  up  the  story,  as  I  have  said,  matched  date  to  date 
and  person  to  person,  and  informed  me  that  exactly  a 
fortnight  from  the  day  of  Mademoiselle  Susanne  Le 
Blanc's  disappearance,  a  young  lady  took  rooms  at  a 
hotel  in  a  Southern  city,  and  advertised  for  a  situation  as 
governess,  under  the  name  of  Susan  White.  She  gave 
no  references,  spoke  English  imperfectly,  and  had  diffi 
culty  in  obtaining  one  ;  finally,  however,  she  was  success 
ful,  and  after  a  few  years  married  into  the  family  of  her 
employer,  and  became  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Heath.  The 
likeness  of  Mrs.  Purcell,  the  grandchild  of  Susan  White, 
to  Susanne  Le  Blanc,  was  so  extraordinary,  a  number  of 
years  ago,  that,  when  Ursule,  my  daughter's  nurse,  first 
saw  her,  she  fainted  with  terror.  My  wife,  you  are  aware, 
was  born  long  after  these  events.  This  governess  never 
communicated  to  her  husband  any  more  specific  circum 
stance  of  her  youth  than  that  she  had  lived  in  the  West 
Indies,  and  had  left  her  family  because  they  had  resolved 
to  marry  her,  —  as  she  might  have  done,  had  she  not  died 
shortly  after  her  daughter's  birth.  Among  her  few  valu 
ables  were  found  this  half-coin  of  Heath's,  and  a  minia 
ture,  which  his  mother  recently  gave  your  cousin,  but 
which,  on  account  of  its  new  interest,  she  has  demanded 
again ;  for  it  is  probably  that  of  the  ancient  lover,  and 
bearing,  as  it  does,  a  very  striking  resemblance  to  your 
self,  you  have  pronounced  it  to  be  undoubtedly  that  of 
your  uncle,  Reuben  Raleigh,  and  wondered  how  it  came 
into  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Heath's  mother.  Now,  as  you 


352  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

may  be  aware,  Reuben  Raleigh  was  the  name  of  Susaime 
Le  Blanc's  lover." 

"  No,  —  I  was  not  aware." 

Mr.  Laudersdale's  countenance,  which  had  been  ani 
mated  in  narration,  suddenly  fell. 

"  I  was  in  hopes,"  he  resumed,  —  "I  thought,  —  my 
relation  of  these  occurrences  may  have  been  very  con 
fused  ;  but  it  is  as  plain  as  daylight  to  me,  that  Susanne 
Le  Blanc  and  Susan  White  are  one,  and  that  the  property 
of  the  first  is  due  to  the  heirs  of  the  last." 

"  Without  doubt,  sir." 

"  The  same  is  plain  to  the  Heaths.  I  am  sure  that 
Marguerite  will  accept  our  decision  in  the  matter,  —  sure 
that  no  daughter  of  mine  would  retain  a  fraudulent  penny ; 
for  retain  it  she  could,  since  there  is  not  sufficient  proof 
in  any  court,  if  we  chose  to  contest ;  but  it  will  beggar 
her." 

"  How,  sir  ?     Beggar  her  to  divide  her  property  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  singular  division.  The  interest  due  on  Su- 
sanne's  moiety  swells  it  enormously.  Add  to  this,  that, 
after  M.  Le  Blanc's  death,  Madame  Le  Blanc,  a  much 
younger  person,  did  not  so  well  understand  the  manage 
ment  of  affairs,  the  property  depreciated,  and  many  losses 
were  encountered,  and  it  happens  that  the  sum  due 
Mrs.  Heath  covers  the  whole  amount  that  Marguerite 
possesses." 

"  Now,  then,  sir  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Raleigh,  interroga 
tively. 

"  Now,  then,  Mrs.  Heath  requests  my  daughter's  hand 
for  her  son,  and  offers  to  set  off  to  him,  at  once,  such 
sum  as  would  constitute  his  half  of  her  new  property 
upon  her  decease,  and  allow  him  to  enter  our  house  as 
special  partner." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  353 

«  Ah  !  " 

"  This  does  not  look  so  unreasonable.  Last  night  he 
proposed  formally  to  Marguerite,  who  is  still  ignorant  of 
these  affairs,  and  she  refused  him.  I  have  urged  her  dif 
ferently,  —  I  can  do  no  more  than  urge,  —  and  she  re 
mains  obdurate.  To  accumulate  misfortunes,  we  escaped 
1857  by  a  miracle.  We  have  barely  recovered ;  and 
now  various  disasters  striking  us,  —  the  loss  of  the  Os- 
prey  the  first  and  the  chief  of  them,  —  we  are  to-day  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  Nothing  but  the  entrance  of 
this  fortune  can  save  us  from  ruin." 

"  Unfortunate ! "  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  —  "  most  unfortu 
nate  !  And  can  I  serve  you  at  this  point  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  with  sudden 
erectness.  "  No,  —  I  have  but  one  hope.  It  has  seemed 
to  me  barely  possible  that  your  uncle  may  have  commu 
nicated  to  you  events  of  his  early  life,  —  that  you  may 
have  heard,  that  there  may  have  been  papers  telling  of 
the  real  fate  of  Susanne  Le  Blanc." 

"None  that  I  know  of,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  after  a 
pause.  "  My  uncle  was  a  very  reserved  person.  I  often 
imagined  that  his  youth  had  not  been  without  its  passages, 
something  to  account  for  his  unvarying  depression.  In 
one  letter,  indeed,  I  asked  him  for  such  a  narration.  He 
promised  to  give  it  to  me  shortly,  —  the  next  mail,  per 
haps.  The  next  mail  I  received  nothing ;  and  after  that 
he  made  no  allusion  to  the  request." 

"  Indeed  ?  Indeed  ?  I  should  say,  —  pardon  me,  Mr. 
Raleigh,  —  that  your  portion  of  the  next  mail  met  with 
some  accident.  Your  servants  could  not  explain  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  Capua,  who  was  majordomo.  We  can  in 
quire,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  with  a  smile,  rising  and  ringing 
for  that  functionary. 


354  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

On  Capua's  appearance,  the  question  was  asked,  if  he 
had  ever  secretly  detained  letter  or  paper  of  any  kind. 

"  Lors,  massa !  I  alwes  knew  't  would  come  to  dis  ! " 
he  replied.  "  No,  massa,  neber  !  "  shaking  his  head  with 
repeated  emphasis. 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  met  with  some  accident, 
Capua,"  said  his  master. 

"  Axerden  be ,  beg  massa's  parden ;  but  such 

s'picions  poison  any  family's  peace,  and  make  a  feller 
done  forgit  hisself." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  who  was  made  to  be 
lieve  by  this  vehemence  in  what  at  first  had  seemed  a 
mere  fantasy.  "  Only  remember,  that,  if  you  could  as 
sure  me  that  any  papers  had  been  destroyed,  the  assur 
ance  would  be  of  value." 

"  'Deed,  Mass  Roger  ?  Dat  alters  de  case,"  said  Capua, 
grinning.  "  Dere  's  been  a  good  many  papers  'stroyed  in 
dis  yer  house,  firs'  an'  last." 

"  Which  in  particular  ?  " 

"  Don'  rekerlember,  massa,  's  so  long  ago." 

"  But  make  an  effort." 

"  Well,  Massa  Raleigh,  —  'pears  to  me  I  do  'member 
suthin',  —  I  do  b'lieve  —  yes,  dis  's  jist  how  't  was.  Spect 
I  might  as  well  make  a  crean  breast  ob  it.  I 's  alwes  had 
it  hangin'  roun'  my  conscious  ;  do'  no'  but  I 's  done  grad 
to  git  rid  ob  it.  Alwes  spected  massa  'd  be  'xcusin'  Cap 
o'  turnin'  tief." 

"  That  is  the  last  accusation  I  should  make  against  you, 
Capua." 

"  But  dar  I  stan's  convicted." 

"  Out  with  it,  Capua  !  "  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  laughing. 

"  Lord,  Massa  Lausdel !  how  you  do  scare  a  chile ! 
Didn'  know  mass'r  was  dar.  See,  Mass  Roger,  dis  's  jist 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  355 

how  't  was.  Spec  you  mind  dat  time  when  all  dese  yer 
folks  lib'd  acrost  de  lake  dat  summer,  an'  massa  was  pos 
sessed  to  'most  lib  dar  too  ?  Well,  one  day,  massa  mind 
Ol'  Cap's  runnin'  acrost  in  de  rain  an'  in  great  state  ob 
excitement  to  tell  him  his  house  done  burnt  up  ?  " 

"  Yes.     What  then  ?  " 

"  Dat  day,  massa,  de  letters  had  come  from  Massa 
Reuben  out  in  Indy,  an'  massa's  pipe  kinder  'tracted 
Cap's  'tention,  an'  so  he  jist  set  down  in  massa's  chair  an' 
took  a  smoke.  Bimeby  Cap  thought,  — '  Ef  massa  come 
an'  ketch  him  ! '  —  an'  put  down  de  pipe  an'  went  to 
work,  and  bimeby  I  smelt  mighty  queer  smell,  massa, 
'bout  de  house,  made  him  tink  Ol'  Mck  was  come  hissef 
for  Ol'  Cap,  an'  I  come  back  into  dis  yer  room  an'  Massa 
Reuben's  letters  from  Indy  was  jist  most  done  burnt  up, 
he  cotched  'em  in  dese  yer  ol'  brack  han's,  Mass  Roger, 
an'  jist  whipt  'em  up  in  dat  high  croset." 

And  having  arrived  at  great  confusion  in  his  personal 
pronouns,  Capua  mounted  nimbly  on  pieces  of  furniture, 
thrust  his  pocket-knife  through  a  crack  of  the  wainscot, 
opened-  the  door  of  a  small  unseen  closet,  and,  after  grop 
ing  about  and  inserting  his  head  as  Van  Amburgh  did  in 
the  lion's  mouth,  scrambled  down  again  with  his  hand  full 
of  charred  and  blackened  papers,  talking  glibly  all  the 
while. 

"  Ef  massa  'd  jist  listen  to  reason,"  he  said,  "  'stead  o' 
flyin'  into  one  ob  his  tantrums,  I  might  sprain  de  matter. 
You  see,  I  knew  Mass  Roger  'd  feel  so  oncomforble  and 
remorsefle  to  find  his  ol'  uncle's  letters  done  'stroyed,  an' 
't  was  all  by  axerden,  an'  couldn'  help  it  noways,  massa, 
an'  been  done  sorry  eber  since,  an'  wished  dar  warn't  no 
letters  dis  side  de  Atlantic  nor  torrer,  ebery  day  I  woke." 

After  which  plea,  Capua  awaited  his  sentence. 


356  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  That  will  do,  —  it 's  over  now,  old  boy,"  said  Mr. 
Ealeigh,  with  his  usual  smile. 

"  Now,  massa,  you  a'n't  gwine  —  " 

"  No,  Capua,  I  'm  going  to  do  nothing  but  look  at  the 
papers." 

"But  massa's — " 

"  You  need  not  be  troubled,  —  I  said,  I  was  not." 

"  But,  massa,  —  s'pose  I  deserve  a  thrashing  ?  " 

"  There  's  no  danger  of  your  getting  it,  you  blameless 
Ethiop ! " 

Upon  which  pacific  assurance,  Capua  departed. 

The  two  gentlemen  now  proceeded  to  the  examination 
of  these  fragments.  Of  the  letters  nothing  whatever  was 
to  be  made.  From  one  of  them  dropped  a  little  yellow 
folded  paper  that  fell  apart  in  its  creases.  Put  together, 
it  formed  a  sufficiently  legible  document,  and  they  read 
the  undoubted  marriage-certificate  of  Susanne  Le  Blanc 
and  Reuben  Raleigh. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  after  a  moment. 
"  I  am  sorry,  instead  of  a  fortune,  to  give  them  a  bar- 
sinister." 

"  Your  daughter  is  ignorant  ?  —  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Entirely.  Will  you  allow  me  to  invite  them  in  here  ? 
They  should  see  this  paper." 

"  You  do  not  anticipate  any  unpleasant  effect  ?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest.  Marguerite  has  no  notion  of  want 
or  of  pride.  Her  first  and  only  thought  will  be  —  sa 
cousine  ffelene"  And  Mr.  Laudersdale  went  out. 

Some  light  feet  were  to  be  heard  pattering  down  the 
stairs,  a  mingling  of  voices,  then  Mr.  Laudersdale  passed 
on,  and  Marguerite  tapped,  entered,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  My  father  has  told  me  something  I  but  half  under 
stand,"  said  she,  with  her  hand  on  the  door.  "  Unless  I 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  357 

marry  Mr.  Heath,  I  lose  my  wealth  ?  What  does  that 
signify  ?  Would  all  the  mines  of  Peru  tempt  me  ? " 

Mr.  Raleigh  remained  leaning  against  the  corner  of  the 
bookcase.  She  advanced  and  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  nearly  opposite  him.  Her  lips  were  glowing  as  if 
the  fire  of  her  excitement  were  fanned  by  every  breath  ; 
her  eyes,  half  hidden  by  the  veiling  lids,  seemed  to  throw 
a  light  out  beneath  them  and  down  her  cheek.  She  wore 
a  mantle  of  swan's  down  closely  wrapped  round  her,  for 
she  had  complained  ceaselessly  of  the  chilly  summer. 

"  Mr.  Raleigh,"  she  said,  "  I  am  poorer  than  you  are, 
now.  I  am  no  longer  an  heiress." 

At  this  moment,  the  door  opened  again  and  Mrs.  Lau- 
dersdale  entered.  At  a  step  she  stood  in  the  one  sun 
beam  ;  at  another,  the  shutters  blew  together,  and  the 
room  was  left  in  semi-darkness,  with  her  figure  gleaming 
through  it,  outlined  and  starred  in  tremulous  evanescent 
light.  For  an  instant  both  Marguerite  and  Mr.  Raleigh 
seemed  to  be  hah0  awe-struck  by  the  radiant  creature 
shining  out  of  the  dark ;  but  directly,  Marguerite  sprang 
back  and  stripped  away  the  torrid  nasturtium-vine  which 
her  mother  had  perhaps  been  winding  in  her  hair  when 
her  husband  spoke  with  her,  and  whose  other  end,  long 
and  laden  with  fragrant  flame,  still  hung  in  her  hand  and 
along  her  dress.  Laughing,  Marguerite  in  turn  wound  it 
about  herself,  and  the  flowers,  so  lately  plucked  from  the 
bath  of  hot  air,  where  they  had  lain  steeping  in  sun, 
flashed  through  the  air  a  second,  and  then  played  all  their 
faint  spirit-like  luminosity  about  their  new  wearer.  She 
seemed  sphered  in  beauty,  like  the  Soul  of  Morning  in 
some  painter's  phantasy,  with  all  great  stars  blossoming 
out  in  floral  life  about  her,  colorless,  yet  brilliant  in  shape 
and  light.  It  was  too  much ;  Mr.  Raleigh  opened  the 


358  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

window  and  let  in  the  daylight  again,  and  a  fresh  air  that 
lent  the  place  a  gayer  life.  As  he  did  so,  Mr.  Lauders- 
dale  entered,  and  with  him  Mr.  Heath  and  his  mother. 
Mr.  Laudersdale  briefly  recapitulated  the  facts,  and 
added,  — 

"  Communicating  my  doubts  to  Mr.  Raleigh,  he  has 
kindly  furnished  me  with  the  marriage-certificate  of  his 
uncle  and  Mademoiselle  Le  Blanc.  And  as  Mr.  Reuben 
Raleigh  was  living  within  thirteen  years,  you  perceive 
that  your  claims  are  invalidated." 

There  was  a  brief  silence  while  the  paper  was  in 
spected. 

"  I  am  still  of  opinion  that  my  grandmother's  second 
marriage  was  legal,"  replied  Mr.  Heath ;  "  yet  I  should 
be  loath  to  drag  up  her  name  and  subject  ourselves  to  a 
possibility  of  disgrace.  So,  though  the  estate  is  ours,  we 
can  do  without  it ! " 

Meanwhile,  Marguerite  had  approached  her  father,  and 
was  patching  together  the  important  scraps. 

"  What  has  this  to  do  with  it  ?  "  said  she.  "  You  ad 
mitted  before  this  discovery  —  did  you  not  ?  —  that  the 
property  was  no  longer  mine.  These  people  are  Aunt 
Susanne's  heirs  still,  if  not  legally,  yet  justly.  I  will  not 
retain  a  sous  of  it !  My  father  shall  instruct  my  lawyer, 
Mrs.  Heath,  to  make  all  necessary  transfers  to  yourself. 
Let  us  wish  you  good  morning ! "  And  she  opened  the 
door  for  them  to  pass. 

"  Marguerite  !  are  you  mad  ?  "  asked  her  father,  as  the 
door  closed. 

"  No,  father,  —  but  honest,  —  which  is  the  same  thing," 
she  responded,  still  standing  near  it. 

"  True,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone  like  a  groan.  "  But  we 
are  ruined." 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  359 

"  Ruined  ?  Oh,  no !  You  are  well  and  strong.  So 
am  I.  I  can  work.  I  shall  get  much  embroidery  to  do, 
for  I  can  do  it  perfectly  ;  the  nuns  taught  me.  I  have  a 
thousand  resources.  And  there  is  something  my  mother 
can  do  ;  it  is  her  great  secret ;  she  has  played  at  it  sum 
mer  after  summer.  She  has  moulded  leaves  and  flowers 
and  twined  them  round  beautiful  faces  in  clay,  long 
enough  ;  now  she  shall  carve  them  in  stone,  and  you  will 
be  rich  again ! " 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  sat  in  a  low  chair  while  Marguerite 
spoke,  the  nasturtium-vine  clinging  round  her  feet  like  a 
gorgeous  snake,  her  hands  lying  listlessly  in  her  lap,  and 
her  attitude  that  of  some  queen  who  has  lost  her  crown 
and  is  totally  bewildered  by  this  strange  conduct  on  the 
part  of  circumstances.  All  the  strength  and  energy  that 
had  been  the  deceits  of  manner  were  utterly  fallen  away, 
and  it  was  plain,  that,  whatever  the  endowment  was 
which  Marguerite  had  mentioned,  she  could  only  play 
at  it.  She  was  but  a  woman,  sheer  woman,  with  the 
woman's  one  capability,  and  the  exercise  of  that  denied 
her. 

Mr.  Laudersdale  remained  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  her, 
and  lost,  it  seemed,  to  the  presence  of  others. 

"  The  disgrace  is  bitter,"  he  murmured.  "  I  have  kept 
my  name  so  proudly  and  so  long !  But  that  is  little.  It 
is  for  you  I  fear.  I  have  stood  in  your  sunshine  and 
shadowed  your  life,  dear !  —  At  least,"  he  continued,  after 
a  pause,  "  I  can  place  you  beyond  the  reach  of  suffering. 
I  must  finish  my  lonely  way." 

Mrs.  Laudersdale  looked  up  slowly  and  met  his  earnest 
glance. 

"  Must  I  leave  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  wild  ter 
ror  in  her  tone.  "  Do  you  mean  that  I  shall  go  away  ? 


360  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

Oh,  you  need  not  care  for  me,  —  you  need  never  love 
me,  —  you  may  always  be  cold,  —  but  I  must  serve  you, 
live  with  you,  die  with  you ! "  And  she  sprang  forward 
with  outstretched  arms. 

He  caught  her  before  her  foot  became  entangled  in  the 
long  folds  of  her  skirt,  drew  her  to  himself,  and  held  her. 
What  he  murmured  was  inaudible  to  the  others ;  but  a 
tint  redder  than  roses  are  swam  to  her  cheek,  and  a  smile 
broke  over  her  face  like  a  reflection  in  rippling  water. 
She  held  his  arm  tightly  in  her  hand,  and  erect  and 
proud,  as  it  were  with  a  new  life,  bent  toward  Roger 
Raleigh. 

"  You  see !  "  said  she.  "  My  husband  loves  me.  And 
I,  —  it  seems  at  this  moment  that  I  have  never  loved  any 
other  than  him ! " 

There  came  a  quick  step  along  the  matting,  the  handle 
of  the  door  turned  in  Marguerite's  resisting  grasp,  and 
Mrs.  PurcelFs  light  muslins  swept  through.  Mr.  Raleigh 
advanced  to  meet  her,  —  a  singular  light  upon  his  face,  a 
strange  accent  of  happiness  in  his  voice. 

"  Since  you  seem  to  be  a  part  of  the  affair,"  she  said  in 
a  low  tone,  while  her  lip  quivered  with  anger  and  scorn, 
"  concerning  which  I  have  this  moment  been  informed, 
pray  take  to  Mr.  Laudersdale  my  brother's  request  to 
enter  the  house  of  Day,  Knight,  and  Company,  from  this 
day." 

"  Has  he  made  such  a  request  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Raleigh. 

"  He  shall  make  it ! "  she  murmured  swiftly,  and  was 
gone. 

That  night  a  telegram  flashed  over  the  wires,  and 
thenceforth,  on  the  great  financial  tide,  the  ship  Day, 
Knight,  and  Company  lowered  its  peak  to  none. 

The  day  crept  through  until  evening,  deepening  into 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  361 

genuine  heat,  and  Marguerite  sat  waiting  for  Mr.  Raleigh 
to  come  and  bid  her  farewell.  It  seemed  that  his  plans 
were  altered,  or  possibly  he  was  gone,  and  at  sunset  she 
went  out  alone.  The  cardinals  that  here  and  there 
showed  their  red  caps  above  the  bank,  the  wild  roses  that 
still  lined  the  way,  the  grapes  that  blossomed  and  red 
dened  and  ripened  year  after  year  ungathered,  did  not 
once  lift  her  eyes.  She  sat  down,  at  last,  on  an  old  fallen 
trunk  cushioned  with  moss,  half  of  it  forever  wet  in  the 
brook  that  babbled  to  the  lake,  and  waited  for  the  day  to 
quench  itself  in  coolness  and  darkness. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Mr.  Raleigh,  leaping  from  the  other  side 
of  the  brook  to  the  mossy  trunk,  "  is  it  you  ?  I  have  been 
seeking  you,  and  what  sprite  sends  you  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  away,"  she  said,  abruptly. 

"  That  is  a  broken  paving-stone,"  he  answered,  seating 
himself  beside  her,  and  throwing  his  hat  on  the  grass. 

"You  asked  me,  yesterday,  if  I  confessed  to  being  a 
myth,"  she  said,  after  a  time.  "  If  I  should  go  back  to 
Martinique,  I  should  become  one  in  your  remembrance,  — 
should  I  not  ?  You  would  think  of  me  just  as  you  would 
have  thought  of  the  Dryad  yesterday,  if  she  had  stepped 
from  the  tree  and  stepped  back  again  ?  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  Martinique  ? "  he  asked,  with  a 
total  change  of  face  and  manner. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  am  tired  of  this  ;  and  I  cannot  live 
on  an  ice-field.  I  had  such  life  at  the  South  !  It  is  '  as 
if  a  rose  should  shut  and  be  a  bud  again.'  I  need  my 
native  weather,  heat  and  sea." 

"  How  can  you  go  to  Martinique  ?  " 

«  Oh,  I  forgot!" 

Mr.  Raleigh  did  not  reply,  and  they  both  sat  listening 
to  the  faint  night-side  noises  of  the  world. 
16 


362  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

"  You  are  very  quiet,"  he  said  at  last,  ceasing  to  fling 
waifs  upon  the  stream. 

"  And  you  could  be  very  gay,  I  believe." 

"  Yes.  I  am  full  of  exuberant  spirits.  Do  you  know 
what  day  it  is  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  birthday." 

"  It  is  my  birthday  !  " 

"  How  strange !     The  Jews  would  tell  you  that  this 
sweet  first  of  August  was  the  birthday  of  the  world. 
4  'T  is  like  the  birthday  of  the  world, 
When  earth  was  born  in  bloom,'  "  — 

she  sang,  but  paused  before  her  voice  should  become 
hoarse  in  tears. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  promised  me  on  my  birthday  ? 
I  am  going  to  claim  it." 

"The  present.  You  shall  have  a  cast  which  I  had 
made  from  one  of  my  mother's  fancies  or  bass-reliefs,  — 
she  only  does  the  front  of  anything,  —  a  group  of  fleurs- 
de-lis  whose  outlines  make  a  child's  face,  my  face." 

"  It  is  more  than  any  likeness  in  stone  or  pencil  that  I 
shall  ask  of  you." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  imagine  ?  " 

"  Monsieur"  she  whispered,  turning  toward  him,  and 
blushing  in  the  twilight,  "  est  ce  que  c'est  moi  ?  " 

There  came  out  the  low  west-wind  singing  to  itself 
through  the  leaves,  the  drone  of  a  late-carousing  honey 
bee,  the  lapping  of  the  water  on  the  shore,  the  song  of  the 
wood-thrush  replete  with  the  sweetness  of  its  half-melody ; 
and.  ever  and  anon  the  pensive  cry  of  the  whippoorwill 
fluted  across  the  deepening  silence  that  summoned  all 
these  murmurs  into  hearing.  A  rustle  like  the  breeze 
in  the  birches  passed,  and  Mrs.  Purcell  retarded  her 


MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY.  363 

rapid  step  to  survey  the  woods-people  who  rose  out  of 
the  shade  and  now  went  on  together  with  her.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  loons  and  whippoorwills  grew  wild  with  sorrow 
that  night,  and  after  a  while  Mrs.  Purcell  ceased  her 
lively  soliloquy,  and  as  they  walked  they  listened.  Sud 
denly  Mr.  Raleigh  turned.  Mrs.  Purcell  was  not  beside 
him.  They  had  been  walking  on  the  brook-edge ;  the 
path  was  full  of  gaps  and  cuts.  With  a  fierce  shudder 
and  misgiving,  he  hurriedly  retraced  his  steps,  and 
searched  and  called ;  then,  with  the  same  haste,  rejoin 
ing  Marguerite,  gained  the  house,  for  lanterns  and  assist 
ance.  Mrs.  Purcell  sat  at  the  drawing-room  window. 

"  Comment  ?  "  cried  Marguerite,  breathlessly. 

"  Oh,  I  had  no  idea  of  walking  in  fog  up  to  my  chin," 
said  Mrs.  Purcell ;  "  so  I  took  the  short  cut." 

"  You  give  me  credit  for  the  tragic  element,"  she  con 
tinued,  under  her  breath,  as  Mr.  Raleigh  quietly  passed 
her.  "  That  is  old  style.  To  be  sure,  I  might  as  well 
die  there  as  in  the  swamps  of  Florida.  Purcell  is'  or 
dered  to  Florida.  Of  course,  I  am  ordered  too ! "  And 
she  whirled  him  the  letter  which  she  held. 

Other  letters  had  been  received  with  the  evening  mail, 
and  one  that  made  Mr.  Raleigh's  return  in  September 
imperative  occasioned  some  discussion  in  the  House  of 
Laudersdale.  The  result  was  that  that  gentleman  secured 
one  passage  more  than  he  had  intended  in  the  spring  ;  and 
if  you  ever  watch  the  shipping-list,  the  arrival  of  the 
Spray-Plough  at  Calcutta,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Raleigh 
among  the  passengers,  will  be  seen  by  you  as  soon  as  me. 

Later  in  the  evening  of  this  same  eventful  day,  as  Mr. 
Raleigh  and  Marguerite  sat  together  in  the  moonlight  that 
flooded  the  great  window,  Mrs.  Laudersdale  passed  them 
and  went  down  the  garden  to  the  lake.  She  wore  some 


364  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

white  garment,  as  in  her  youth,  and  there  was  a  dreamy 
sweetness  in  her  eye  and  an  unspoken  joy  about  her  lips. 
Mr.  Raleigh  could  not  help  thinking  it  was  a  singular  hap 
piness,  this  that  opened  before  her ;  it  seemed  to  be  like  a 
fruit  plucked  from  the  stem  and  left  to  mature  in  the  sun 
shine  by  itself,  late  and  lingering,  never  sound  at  heart. 
She  floated  on,  with  the  light  in  her  dusky  eyes  and  the 
seldom  rose  on  her  cheek,  —  floated  on  from  moonbeam  to 
moonbeam,  —  and  the  lovers  brought  back  their  glances 
and  gave  them  to  each  other.  For  one,  life  opened  a 
labyrinth  of  warmth  and  light  and  joy ;  for  the  other, 
youth  was  passed,  destiny  not  to  be  appeased:  if  his 
affection  enriched  her,  the  best  he  could  do  was  to  be 
stow  it;  in  his  love  there  would  yet  be  silent  reserva 
tions. 

"Mr  Raleigh,"  said  Marguerite,  "did  you  ever  love 
my  mother  ?  " 

"  Once  I  thought  I  did." 

"  And  now  ?  " 

"  Whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see." 

"  Listen !  Mrs.  Purcell  is  singing  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

"  Through  lonely  summers,  where  the  roses  blow 

Unsought,  and  shed  their  tangled  sweets, 
I  sit  and  hark,  or  in  the  starry  dark, 

Or  when  the  night-rain  on  the  hill-side  beats. 

"  Alone !    But  when  the  eternal  summers  flow 

And  refluent  drown  in  song  all  moan, 
Thy  soul  shall  waste  for  its  delight,  and  haste 
Through  heaven.    And  I  shall  be  no  more  alone !  " 

"  What  a  voice  she  sings  with  to-night ! "  said  Mar 
guerite.  "  It  is  stripped  of  all  its  ornamental  disguises, 
—  so  slender,  yet  piercing  !  " 


MIDSUMMEE  AND  MAY.  365 

"  A  needle  can  pain  like  a  sword-blade.  There  goes 
the  moon  in  clouds.  Hark  !  What  was  that  ?  A  cry  ?  " 
And  he  started  to  his  feet. 

"  No,"  she  said,  —  "  it  is  only  the  wild  music  of  the 
lake,  the  voices  of  shadows  calling  to  shadows." 

"  There  it  is  again,  but  fainter ;  the  wind  carries  it  the 
other  way." 

"  It  is  a  desolating  wind." 

"  And  the  light  on  the  land  is  like  that  of  eclipse  !  " 

He  stooped  and  raised  her  and  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"  I  have  a  strange,  terrible  sense  of  calamity,  Mig- 
nonne  !  "  he  said.  "  Let  it  strike,  so  it  spare  you  !  " 

"  Nothing  can  harm  us,"  she  replied,  clinging  to  him. 
"  Even  death  cannot  come  .between  us  !  " 

"  Marguerite !  "  said  Mr.  Laudersdale,  entering, "  where 
is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She  went  down  to  the  lake,  sir." 

"  She  cannot  possibly  have  gone  out  upon  it !  " 

"  Oh,  she  frequently  does ;  and  so  do  we  all." 

"  But  this  high  wind  has  risen  since.  The  flaws  —  " 
And  he  went  out  hastily. 

There  flashed  on  Mr.  Raleigh's  mental  sight  a  vision  of 
the  moonlit  lake,  one  instant.  A  boat,  upon  its  side,  bend 
ing  its  white  sail  down  the  depths  ;  a  lifted  arm  wound  in 
the  fatal  rope ;  a  woman's  form,  hanging  by  that  arm, 
sustained  in  the  dark  transparent  tide  of  death ;  the  wild 
wind  blowing  over,  the  moonlight  glazing  ah1.  For  that 
instant  he  remained  still  as  stone ;  the  next,  he  strode 
away,  and  dashed  down  to  the  lake-shore.  It  seemed  as 
if  his  vision  yet  continued.  They  had  already  put  out  in 
boats  ;  he  was  too  late.  He  waited  in  ghastly  suspense 
till  they  rowed  home  with  their  slow  freight.  And  then 
his  arm  supported  the  head  with  its  long,  uncoiling,  heavy 


366  MIDSUMMER  AND  MAY. 

hair,  and  lifted  the  limbs,  round  which  the  drapery  flowed 
like  a  pall  on  sculpture,  till  another  man  took  the  burden 
from  him  and  went  up  to  the  house  with  his  own. 

When  Mr.  Kaleigh  entered  the  house  again,  it  was  at 
break  of  dawn.  Some  one  opened  the  library-door  and 
beckoned  him  in.  Marguerite  sprang  into  his  arms. 

«  What  if  she  had  died  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Purcell,  with  her 
swift  satiric  breath,  and  folding  a  web  of  muslin  over  her 
arm.  "  See !  I  had  got  out  the  shroud.  As  it  is,  we 
drink  skal  and  say  grace  at  breakfast.  The  funeral 
baked-meats  shall  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage-feast. 
You  men  are  all  alike.  Le  JKoi  est  mortf  Vive  la 
Seine/" 


THE  SOUTH   BREAKER. 


THE    SOUTH    BREAKER. 


UST  a  capful  of  wind,  and  Dan  shook  loose 
the  linen,  and  a  straight  shining  streak  with 
specks  of  foam  shot  after  us.  The  mast  bent 
like  eel-grass,  and  our  keel  was  half  out  of  the 
water.  Faith  belied  her  name,  and  clung  to  the  sides 
with  her  ten  finger-nails  ;  but  as  for  me,  I  liked  it. 

"Take  the  stick,  Georgie,"  said  Dan,  suddenly,  his 
cheeks  white.  "  Head  her  up  the  wind  Steady.  Sight 
the  figure-head  on  Pearson's  loft.  Here 's  too  much  sail 
for  a  frigate." 

But  before  the  words  were  well  uttered,  the  mast 
doubled  up  and  coiled  like  a  whip-lash,  there  was  a 
report  like  the  crack  of  doom,  and  half  of  the  thing 
crashed  short  over  the  bows,  dragging  the  heavy  sail 
in  the  waves. 

Then  there  came  a  great  laugh  of  thunder  close  above, 
and  the  black  cloud  dropped  like  a  curtain  round  us : 
the  squall  had  broken. 

"  Cut  it  off,  Dan  !  quick  !  "  I  cried. 
"  Let  it  alone,"  said  he,  snapping  together  his  jack- 
knife  ;  "  it 's  as  good  as  a  best  bower-anchor.     Now  I  '11 
take  the  tiller,  Georgie.      Strong  little  hand,"  said  he, 
bending  so  that  I  did  n't  see  his  face.     "And  lucky  it's 
16*  x 


370  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

good  as  strong.  It's  saved  us  all.  My  God,  Georgie ! 
where  's  Faith  ?  " 

I  turned.  There  was  no  Faith  in  the  boat.  We  both 
sprang  to-  our  feet,  and  so  the  tiller  swung  round  and 
threw  us  broadside  to  the  wind,  and  between  the  dragging 
mast  and  the  centre-board  drowning  seemed  too  good 
for  us. 

"  You  '11  have  to  cut  it  off,"  I  cried  again  ;  but  he  had 
already  ripped  half  through  the  canvas,  and  was  casting 
it  loose. 

At  length  he  gave  his  arm  a  toss.  With  the  next  mo 
ment,  I  never  shall  forget  the  look  of  horror  that  froze 
Dan's  face. 

"  I  Ve  thrown  her  off !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  've  thrown 
her  off!" 

He  reached  his  whole  length  over  the  boat,  I  ran  to  his 
side,  and  perhaps  our  motion  impelled  it,  or  perhaps  some 
unseen  hand ;  for  he  caught  at  an  end  of  rope,  drew  it  in 
a  second,  let  go  and  clutched  at  a  handful  of  the  sail,  and 
then  I  saw  how  it  had  twisted  round  and  swept  poor  little 
Faith  over,  and  she  had  swung  there  in  it,  like  a  dead 
butterfly  in  a  chrysalis.  The  lightnings  were  slipping 
clown  into  the  water  like  blades  of  fire  everywhere  around 
us,  with  short,  sharp  volleys  of  thunder,  and  the  waves 
were  more  than  I  ever  rode  this  side  of  the  bar  before  or 
since,  and  we  took  in  water  every  time  our  hearts  beat ; 
but  we  never  once  thought  of  our  own  danger  while  we 
bent  to  pull  dear  little  Faith  out  of  hers ;  and  that  done, 
Dan  broke  into  a  great  hearty  fit  of  crying  that  I  'm  sure 
he  'd  no  need  to  be  ashamed  of.  But  it  did  n't  last  long  ; 
he  just  up  and  dashed  off  the  tears  and  set  himself  at 
work  again,  while  I  was  down  on  the  floor  rubbing  Faith. 
There  she  lay  like  a  broken  lily,  with  no  life  in  her  little 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  371 

white  face,  and  no  breath,  and  maybe  a  pulse  and  maybe 
not.  I  could  n't  hear  a  word  Dan  said,  for  the  wind  ;  and 
the  rain  was  pouring  through  us.  I  saw  him  take  out 
the  oars,  but  I  knew  they  'd  do  no  good  in  such  a  chop, 
even  if  they  did  n't  break ;  and  pretty  soon  he  found  it 
so,  for  he  drew  them,  in  and  begun  to  untie  the  anchor- 
rope  and  wind  it  round  his  waist.  I  sprang  to  him. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Dan  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  can  swim,  at  least,"  he  answered. 

"  And  tow  us  ? —  a  mile  ?  You  know  you  can't !  It 's 
madness ! " 

"I  must  try.  Little  Faith  will  die,  if  we  don't  get 
ashore." 

"  She 's  dead  now,  Dan." 

"  What !  No,  no,  she  is  n't.  Faith  is  n't  dead.  But 
we  must  get  ashore." 

"  Dan,"  I  cried,  ch'nging  to  his  arm,  "  Faith  's  only 
one.  But  if  you  die  so,  —  and  you  will !  —  I  shall  die 
too." 

"You?" 

"  Yes  ;  because,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  me,  you  would  n't 
have  been  here  at  all." 

"And  is  that  all  the  reason  ?  "  he  asked,  still  at  work. 

"  Reason  enough,"  said  I. 

"  Not  quite,"  said  he. 

"  Dan,  —  for  my  sake  —  " 

"  I  can't,  Georgie.  Don't  ask  me.  I  must  n't  —  " 
and  here  he  stopped  short,  with  the  coil  of  rope  in  his 
hand,  and  fixed  me  with  his  eye,  and  his  look  was  ter 
rible  —  "  we  must  n't  let  Faith  die." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  try  it,  if  you  dare,  —  and  as  true  as 
there 's  a  Lord  in  heaven,  I  '11  cut  the  rope  ! " 

He  hesitated,  for  he  saw  I  was  resolute ;  and  I  would, 


372  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

I  declare  I  would  have  done  it ;  for,  do  you  know,  at  the 
moment,  I  hated  the  little  dead  thing  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat  there. 

Just  then  there  came  a  streak  of  sunshine  through  the 
gloom  where  we  'd  been  plunging  between  wind  and  wa 
ter,  and  then  a  patch  of  blue  sky,  and  the  great  cloud 
went  blowing  down  river.  Dan  threw  away  the  rope 
and  took  out  the  oars  again. 

"  Give  me  one,  Dan,"  said  I ;  but  he  shook  his  head. 
"  O  Dan,  because  I  'm  so  sorry ! " 

"  See  to  her,  then,  —  fetch  Faith  to,"  he  replied,  not 
looking  at  me,  and  making  up  with  great  sturdy  pulls. 

So  I  busied  myself,  though  I  could  n't  do  a  bit  of  good. 
The  instant  we  touched  bottom,  Dan  snatched  her,  sprang 
through  the  water  and  up  the  landing.  I  stayed  behind ; 
as  the  boat  recoiled,  pushed  in  a  little,  fastened  the  anchor 
and  threw  it  over,  and  then  followed. 

Our  house  was  next  the  landing,  and  there  Dan  had 
carried  Faith ;  and  when  I  reached  it,  a  great  fire  was 
roaring  up  the  chimney,  and  the  tea-kettle  hung  over  it, 
and  he  was  rubbing  Faith's  feet  hard  enough  to  strike 
sparks.  I  could  n't  understand  exactly  what  made  Dan 
so  fiercely  earnest,  for  I  thought  I  knew  just  how  he  felt 
about  Faith ;  but  suddenly,  when  nothing  seemed  to  an 
swer,  and  he  stood  up  and  our  eyes  met,  I  saw  such  a 
haggard,  conscience-stricken  face  that  it  all  rushed  over 
me.  But  now  we  had  done  what  we  could,  and  then  I 
felt  all  at  once  as  if  every  moment  that  I  effected  nothing 
was  drawing  out  murder.  Something  flashed  by  the  win 
dow,  I  tore  out  of  the  house  and  threw  up  my  arms,  I 
don't  know  whether  I  screamed  or  not,  but  I  caught  the 
doctor's  eye,  and  he  jumped  from  his  gig  and  followed  me 
in.  We  had  a  siege  of  it.  But  at  length,  with  hot  blank- 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  373 

ets,  and  hot  water,  and  hot  brandy  dribbled  down  her 
throat,  a  little  pulse  began  to  play  upon  Faith's  temple, 
and  a  little  pink  to  beat  up  and  down  her  cheek,  and  she 
opened  her  pretty  dark  eyes  and  lifted  herself  and  wrung 
the  water  out  of  her  braids ;  then  she  sank  back. 

"  Faith  !  Faith  !  speak  to  me  !  "  said  Dan,  close  in  her 
ear.  "  Don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

"  Go  away,"  she  said,  hoarsely,  pushing  his  face  with 
her  flat  wet  palm.  "  You  let  the  sail  take  me  over  and 
drown  me,  while  you  kissed  Georgie's  hand." 

I  flung  my  hand  before  her  eyes. 

"  Is  there  a  kiss  on  those  fingers  ?  "  I  cried,  in  a  blaze. 
"  He  never  kissed  my  hands  or  my  lips.  Dan  is  your 
husband,  Faith ! " 

For  all  answer  Faith  hid  her  head  and  gave  a  little 
moan.  Somehow  I  could  n't  stand  that ;  so  I  ran  and  put 
my  arms  round  her  neck  and  lifted  her  face  and  kissed  it, 
and  then  we  cried  together.  And  Dan,  walking  the  floor, 
took  up  his  hat  and  went  out,  while  she  never  cast  a  look 
after  him.  To  think  of  such  a  great  strong  nature  and 
such  a  powerful  depth  of  feeling  being  wasted  on  such  a 
little  limp  rag !  I  cried  as  much  for  that  as  anything. 
Then  I  helped  Faith  into  my  bedroom,  and  running  home, 
I  got  her  some  dry  clothes,  —  after  rummaging  enough, 
dear  knows !  for  you  'd  be  more  like  to  find  her  nightcap 
in  the  tea-caddy  than  elsewhere,  —  and  I  made  her  a  cor 
ner  on  the  settle,  for  she  was  afraid  to  stay  in  the  bed 
room,  and  when  she  was  comfortably  covered  there  she 
fell  asleep.  Dan  came  in  soon  and  sat  down  beside  her, 
his  eyes  on  the  floor,  never  glancing  aside  nor  smiling,  but 
gloomier  than  the  grave.  As  for  me,  I  felt  at  ease  now, 
so  I  went  and  laid  my  hand  on  the  back  of  his  chair  and 
made  him  look  up.  I  wanted  he  should  know  the  same 


374  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

rest  that  I  had,  and  perhaps  he  did,  —  for,  still  looking 
up,  the  quiet  smile  came  floating  round  his  lips,  and  his 
eyes  grew  steady  and  sweet  as  they  used  to  be  before  he 
married  Faith.  Then  I  went  bustling  lightly  about  the 
kitchen  again. 

"Dan,"  I  said,  "if  you'd  just  bring  me  in  a  couple 
of  those  chickens  stalking  out  there  like  two  gentlemen 
from  Spain." 

While  he.  was  gone  I  flew  round  and  got  a  cake  into 
the  bake-kettle,  and  a  pan  of  biscuit  down  before  the 
fire ;  and  I  set  the  tea  to  steep  on  the  coals,  because 
father  always  likes  his  tea  strong  enough  to  bear  up  an 
egg,  after  a  hard  day's  work,  and  he  'd  had  that  to-day ; 
and  I  put  on  the  coffee  to  boil,  for  I  knew  Dan  never 
had  it  at  home,  because  Faith  liked  it  and  it  did  n't  agree 
with  her.  And  then  he  brought  me  in  the  chickens  all 
ready  for  the  pot,  and  so  at  last  I  sat  down,  but  at  the 
opposite  side  of  the  chimney.  Then  he  rose,  and,  with 
out  exactly  touching  me,  swept  me  back  to  the  other 
side,  where  lay  the  great  net  I  was  making  for  father ; 
and  I  took  the  little  stool  by  the  settle,  and  not  far  from 
him,  and  went  to  work. 

"  Georgie,"  said  Dan,  at  length,  after  he  'd  watched 
me  a  considerable  time,  "  if  any  word  I  may  have  said 
to-day  disturbed  you  a  moment,  I  want  you  to  know  that 
it  hurt  me  first,  and  just  as  much." 

"  Yes,  Dan,"  said  I. 

I've  always  thought  there  was  something  real  noble 
between  Dan  and  me  then.  There  was  I,  —  well,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you.  And  he,  —  yes,  I  'm  sure  he  loved  me 
perfectly,  —  you  must  n't  be  startled,  I  '11  tell  you  how  it 
was,  —  and  always  had,  only  may  be  he  had  n't  known 
it;  but  it  was  deep  down  in  his  heart  just  the  same, 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  375 

and  by  and  by  it  stirred.  There  we  were,  both  of  us 
thoroughly  conscious,  yet  neither  of  us  expressing  it  by 
a  word,  and  trying  not  to  by  a  look,  —  both  of  us  content 
to  wait  for  the  next  life,  when  we  could  belong  to  one 
another.  In  those  days  I  contrived  to  have  it  always 
pleasure  enough  for  me  just  to  know  that  Dan  was  in 
the  room  ;  and  though  that  was  n't  often,  I  never  grudged 
Faith  her  right  in  him,  perhaps  because  I  knew  she  did 
n't  care  anything  about  it.  You  see,  this  is  how  it  was. 
When  Dan  was  a  lad  of  sixteen,  and  took  care  of  His 
mother,  a  ship  went  to  pieces  down  there  on  the  island. 
It  was  one  of  the  worst  storms  that  ever  whistled,  and 
though  crowds  were  on  the  shore,  it  was  impossible  to 
reach  her.  They  could  see  the  poor  wretches  hanging 
in  the  rigging,  and  dropping  one  by  one,  and  they  could 
only  stay  and  sicken,  for  the  surf  stove  the  boats,  and 
they  did  n't  know  then  how  to  send  out  ropes  on  rockets 
or  on  cannon-balls,  and  so  the  night  fell,  and  the  people 
wrung  their  hands  and  left  the  sea  to  its  prey,  and  felt 
as  if  blue  sky  could  never  come  again.  And  with  the 
bright,  keen  morning  not  a  vestige  of  the  ship,  but  here 
a  spar  and  there  a  door,  and  on  the  side  of  a  sand-hill 
a  great  dog  watching  over  a  little  child  that  he'd  kept 
warm  all  night.  Dan,  he  'd  got  up  at  turn  of  tide,  and 
walked  down,  —  the  sea  running  over  the  road  knee- 
deep,  —  for  there  was  too  much  swell  for  boats ;  and 
when  day  broke,  he  found  the  little  girl,  and  carried  her 
up  to  town.  He  did  n't  take  her  home,  for  he  saw  that 
what  clothes  she  had  were  the  very  finest,  —  made  as 
delicately,  —  with  seams  like  the  hair-strokes  on  that 
heart's-ease  there;  and  he  concluded  that  he  couldn't 
bring  her  up  as  she  ought  to  be.  So  he  took  her  round 
to  the  rich  men,  and  represented  that  she  was  the  child 


376  THE  SOUTH  BKEAKEK. 

of  a  lady,  and  that  a  poor  fellow  like  himself — for  Dan 
was  older  than  his  years,  you  see  —  could  n't  do  her 
justice :  she  was  a  slight  little  thing,  and  needed  dainty 
training  and  fancy  food,  may  be  a  matter  of  seven  years 
old,  and  she  spoke  some  foreign  language,  and  perhaps 
she  did  n't  speak  it  plain,  for  nobody  knew  what  it  was. 
However,  everybody  was  very  much  interested,  and 
everybody  was  willing  to  give  and  to  help,  but  nobody 
wanted  to  take  her,  and  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  Dan 
refused  all  their  offers  and  took  her  himself. 

His  mother  'd  been  in  to  our  house  all  the  afternoon 
before,  and  she  'd  kept  taking  her  pipe  out  of  her  mouth, 
—  she  had  the  asthma,  and  smoked,  —  and  kept  sighing. 

"  This  storm  '&  going  to  bring  me  something,"  says 
she,  in  a  mighty  miserable  tone.  "  I  'm  sure  of  it ! " 

"  No  harm,  I  hope,  Miss  Devereux,"  said  mother. 

"  Well,  Rhody,"  —  mother's  father,  he  was  a  queer 
kind,  —  called  his  girls  all  after  the  thirteen  States,  and 
there  being  none  left  for  Uncle  Mat,  he  called  him  after 
the  state  of  matrimony,  —  "  Well,  Rhody,"  she  replied, 
rather  dismally,  and  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  the  bowl, 
"  I  don't  know ;  but  I  '11  have  faith  to  believe  that  the 
Lord  won't  send  me  no  ill  without  distincter  warning. 
And  that  it 's  good  I  have  faith  to  believe." 

And  so  when  the  child  appeared,  and  had  no  name, 
and  could  n't  answer  for  herself,  Mrs.  Devereux  called 
her  Faith. 

We  're  a  people  of  presentiments  down  here  on  the 
Flats,  and  well  we  may  be.  You  'd  own  up  yourself, 
maybe,  if  in  the  dark  of  the  night,  you  locked  in  sleep, 
there's  a  knock  on  the  door  enough  to  wake  the  dead, 
and  you  start  up  and  listen  and  nothing  follows;  and 
falling  back,  you  're  just  dozing  off,  and  there  it  is  once 


THE  SOUTH  BEEAKEK.  377 

more,  so  that  the  lad  in  the  next  room  cries  out,  "  Who 's 
that,  mother  ? "  No  one  answering,  you  're  half  lost 
again,  when  rap  comes  the  hand  again,  the  loudest  of 
the  three,  and  you  spring  to  the  door  and  open  it,  and 
there 's  naught  there  but  a  wind  from  the  graves  blow 
ing  in  your  face ;  and  after  a  while  you  learn  that  in 
that  hour  of  that  same  night  your  husband  was  lost  at 
sea.  Well,  that  happened  to  Mrs.  Devereux.  And  I 
have  n't  time  to  tell  you  the  warnings  I  've  known  of. 
As  for  Faith,  I  mind  that  she  said  herself,  as  we  were 
in  the  boat  for  that  clear  midnight  sail,  that  the  sea  had 
a  spite  against  her,  but  third  time  was  trying  time. 

So  Faith  grew  up,  and  Dan  sent  her  to  school  what  he 
could,  for  he  set  store  by  her.  She  was  always  ailing, 
—  a  little,  wilful,  pettish  thing,  but  pretty  as  a  flower ; 
and  folks  put  things  into  her  head,  and  she  began  to  think 
she  was  some  great  shakes;  and  she  may  have  been  a 
matter  of  seventeen  years  old  when  Mrs.  Devereux  died. 
Dan,  as  simple  at  twenty-six  as  he  had  been  ten  years 
before,  thought  to  go  on  just  in  the  old  way,  but  the 
neighbors  were  one  too  many  for  him ;  and  they  all  rep 
resented  that  it  would  never  do,  and  so  on,  till  the  poor 
fellow  got  perplexed  and  vexed  and  half  beside  himself. 
There  was  n't  the  first  thing  she  could  do  for  herself,  and 
he  could  n't  afford  to  board  her  out,  for  Dan  was  only  a 
laboring-man,  mackerelling  all  summer  and  shoemaking 
all  winter,  less  the  dreadful  times  when  he  stayed  out 
on  the  Georges ;  and  then  he  could  n't  afford,  either,  to 
keep  her  there  and  ruin  the  poor  girl's  reputation ;  — 
and  what  did  Dan  do  but  come  to  me  with  it  all  ? 

Now  for  a  number  of  years  I  'd  been  up  in  the  other 
part  of  the  town  with  Aunt  Netty,  who  kept  a  shop  that 
I  tended  between  schools  and  before  and  after,  and  I  'd 


378  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

almost  forgotten  there  was  such  a  soul  on  earth  as  Dan 
Devereux,  —  though  he  'd  not  forgotten  me.  I  'd  got 
through  the  Grammar  and  had  a  year  in  the  High,  and 
suppose  I  should  have  finished  with  an  education  and 
gone  off  teaching  somewhere,  instead  of  being  here  now, 
cheerful  as  heart  could  wish,  with  a  little  black-haired 
hussy  tiltering  on  the  back  of  my  chair.  Roily,  get 
down  !  Her  name 's  Laura,  —  for  his  mother.  I  mean 
I  might  have  done  all  this,  if  at  that  time  mother  had  n't 
been  thrown  on  her  back,  and  been  bedridden  ever  since. 
I  have  n't  said  much  about  mother  yet,  but  there  all  the 
time  she  was,  just  as  she  is  to-day,  in  her  little  tidy  bed 
in  one  corner  of  the  great  kitchen,  sweet  as  a  saint,  and 
as  patient ;  —  and  I  had  to  come  and  keep  house  for 
father.  He  never  meant  that  I  should  lose  by  it,  father 
did  n't ;  begged,  borrowed,  or  stolen,  bought  or  hired,  I 
should  have  my  books,  he  said :  he  's  mighty  proud  of  my 
learning,  though  between  you  and  me  it 's  little  enough 
to  be  proud  of;  but  the  neighbors  think  I  know  'most 
as  much  as  the  minister,  —  and  I  let  'em  think.  Well, 
while  Mrs.  Devereux  was  sick  I  was  over  there  a  good 
deal,  —  for  if  Faith  had  one  talent,  it  was  total  incapa 
city,  —  and  there  had  a  chance  of  knowing  the  stuff  that 
Dan  was  made  of;  and  I  declare  to  man  't  would  have 
touched  a  heart  of  stone  to  see  the  love  between  the  two. 
She  thought  Dan  held  up  the  sky,  and  Dan  thought  she 
was  the  sky.  It 's  no  wonder,  —  the  risks  our  men  lead 
can't  make  common-sized  women  out  of  their  wives  and 
mothers.  But  I  had  n't  been  coming  in  and  out,  busying 
about  where  Dan  was,  all  that  time,  without  making  any 
mark ;  though  he  was  so  lost  in  grief  about  his  mother 
that  he  did  n't  take  notice  of  his  other  feelings,  or  think 
of  himself  at  all.  And  who  could  care  the  less  about 


THE  SOUTH  BKEAKER.  379 

him  for  that  ?  It  always  brings  down  a  woman  to  see 
a  man  wrapt  in  some  sorrow  that 's  lawful  and  tender  as 
it  is  large.  And  when  he  came  and  told  me  what  the 
neighbors  said  he  must  do  with  Faith,  the  blood  stood 
still  in  my  heart. 

"  Ask  mother,  Dan,"  says  I,  —  for  I  could  n't  have  ad 
vised  him.  "  She  knows  best  about  everything." 

So  he  asked  her. 

"  I  think,  —  I  'm  sorry  to  think,  for  I  fear  she  '11  not 
make  you  a  good  wife,"  said  mother,  "  but  that  perhaps 
her  love  for  you  will  teach  her  to  be,  —  you  'd  best  marry 
Faith." 

"  But  I  can't  marry  her  !  "  said  Dan,  half  choking ;  "  I 
don't  want  to  marry  her,  —  it  —  it  makes  me  uncomfort- 
able-like  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  I  care  for  the  child 
plenty  —  Besides,"  said  Dan,  catching  at  a  bright  hope, 
"  I  'm  not  sure  that  she  'd  have  me." 

"  Have  you,  poor  boy  !     What  else  can  she  do  ?  " 

Dan  groaned. 

"  Poor  little  Faith ! "  said  mother.  "  She  's  so  pretty, 
Dan,  and  she 's  so  young,  and  she  's  pliant.  And  then 
how  can  we  tell  what  may  turn  up  about  her  some  day  ? 
She  may  be  a  duke's  daughter  yet,  —  who  knows  ? 
Think  of  the  stroke  of  good-fortune  she  may  give  you  ! " 

"  But  I  don't  love  her,"  said  Dan,  as  a  finality. 

"  Perhaps  —  It  is  n't  —  You  don't  love  any  one 
else  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dan,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  not  at  all 
with  reflection.  And  then,  as  his  eyes  went  wandering, 
there  came  over  them  a  misty  look,  just  as  the  haze 
creeps  between  you  and  some  object  away  out  at  sea,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  sifting  his  very  soul.  Suddenly  the 
look  swept  off  them,  and  his  eyes  struck  mine,  and  he 


380  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

turned,  not  having  meant  to,  and  faced  me  entirely,  and 
there  came  such  a  light  into  his  countenance,  such  a  smile 
round  his  lips,  such  a  red  stamped  his  cheek,  and  he  bent 
a  little,  —  and  it  was  just  as  if  the  angel  of  the  Lord  had 
shaken  his  wings  over  us  in  passing,  and  we  both  of  us 
knew  that  here  was  a  man  and  here  was  a  woman,  each 
for  the  other,  in  life  and  death  ;  and  I  just  hid  my  head 
in  my  apron,  and  mother  turned  on  her  pillow  with  a  lit 
tle  moan.  How  long  that  lasted  I  can't  say,  but  by  and 
by  I  heard  mother's  voice,  clear  and  sweet  as  a  tolling 
bell  far  away  on  some  fair  Sunday  morning,  — 

"  The  Lord  is  in  his  holy  temple,  the  Lord's  throne  is 
in  heaven :  his  eyes  behold,  his  eyelids  try  the  children 
of  men." 

And  nobody  spoke. 

"  Thou  art  my  Father,  my  God,  and  the  rock  of  my 
salvation.  Thou  wilt  light  my  candle :  the  Lord  my  God 
will  enlighten  my  darkness.  For  with  thee  is  the  foun 
tain  of  life  :  in  thy  light  shall  we  see  light." 

Then  came  the  hush  again,  and  Dan  started  to  his 
feet,  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  as  if 
something  drove  him ;  but  wearying,  he  stood  and  leaned 
his  head  on  the  chimney  there.  And  mother's  voice 
broke  the  stillness  anew,  and  she  said, — 

"  Hath  God  forgotten  to  be  gracious  ?  His  mercy 
endureth  forever.  And  none  of  them  that  trust  in  him 
shall  be  desolate." 

There  was  something  in  mother's  tone  that  made  me 
forget  myself  and  my  sorrow,  and  look ;  and  there  she 
was,  as  she  had  n't  been  before  for  six  months,  half  risen 
from  the  bed,  one  hand  up,  and  her  whole  face  white  and 
shining  with  confident  faith.  "Well,  when  I  see  all  that 
such  trust  has  buoyed  mother  over,  I  wish  to  goodness  I 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  381 

had  it:  I  take  more  after  Martha.  But  never  mind, 
do  well  here  and  you  '11  do  well  there,  say  I.  Perhaps 
you  think  it  was  n't  much,  the  quiet  and  the  few  texts 
breathed  through  it ;  but  sometimes  when  one's  soul 's  at 
a  white  heat,  it  may  be  moulded  like  wax  with  a  finger. 
As  for  me,  maybe  God  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart, — 
though  how  that  was  Pharaoh's  fault  I  never  could  see  ; 
—  but  Dan,  —  he  felt  what  it  was  to  have  a  refuge  in 
trouble,  to  have  a  great  love  always  extending  over  him 
like  a  wing  ;  he  longed  for  it ;  he  could  n't  believe  it  was 
his  now,  he  was  so  suddenly  convicted  of  all  sin  and 
wickedness  ;  and  something  sprang  up  in  his  heart,  a 
kind  of  holy  passion  that  he  felt  to  be  possible  for  this 
great  and  tender  Divine  Being ;  and  he  came  and  fell  on 
his  knees  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  crying  out  for  mother  to 
show  him  the  way ;  and  mother,  she  put  her  hand  on  his 
head  and  prayed,  —  prayed,  O  so  beautifully,  that  it 
makes  the  water  stand  in  my  eyes  now  to  remember 
what  she  said.  But  I  did  n't  feel  so  then,  my  heart  and 
my  soul  were  rebellious,  and  love  for  Dan  alone, kept  me 
under,  not  love  for  God.  And  in  fact,  if  ever  I  'd  got  to 
heaven  then,  love  for  Dan  'd  have  been  my  only  saving 
grace  ;  for  I  was  mighty  high-spirited,  as  a  girl.  Well, 
Dan  he  never  made  open  profession;  but  when  he  left 
the  house,  he  went  and  asked  Faith  to  marry  him. 

Now  Faith  did  n't  care  anything  about  Dan,  —  except 
the  quiet  attachment  that  she  could  n't  help,  from  living 
in  the  house  with  him,  and  he  'd  always  petted  and  made 
much  of  her,  and  dressed  her  like  a  doll,  —  he  was  n't 
the  kind  of  man  to  take  her  fancy :  she  'd  have  maybe 
liked  some  slender,  smooth-faced  chap ;  but  Dan  was  a 
black,  shaggy  fellow,  with  shoulders  like  the  cross-tree, 
and  a  length  of  limb  like  Saul's,  and  eyes  set  deep,  like 


382  THE   SOUTH  BREAKER. 

lamps  in  caverns.  And  he  had  a  great,  powerful  heart, 
—  and,  O  how  it  was  lost !  for  she  might  have  won  it, 
she  might  have  made  him  love  her,  since  I  would  have 
stood  wide  away  and  aside  for  the  sake  of  seeing  him 
happy.  But  Faith  was  one  of  those  that,  if  they  can't 
get  what  they  want,  have  n't  any  idea  of  putting  up  with 
what  they  have,  —  God  forgive  me,  if  I  'm  hard  on  the 
child !  And  she  could  n't  give  Dan  an  answer  right  off, 
but  was  loath  to  think  of  it,  and  went  flirting  about 
among  the  other  boys ;  and  Dan,  when  he  saw  she  was 
n't  so  easily  gotten,  perhaps  set  more  value  on  her.  For 
Faith,  she  grew  prettier  every  day;  her  great  brown 
eyes  were  so  soft  and  clear,  and  had  a  wide,  sorrowful 
way  of  looking  at  you  ;  and  her  cheeks,  that  were  usually 
pale,  blossomed  to  roses  when  you  spoke  to  her,  her  hair 
drooping  over  them  dark  and  silky ;  and  though  she  was 
slack  and  untidy  and  at  loose  ends  about  her  dress,  she 
somehow  always  seemed  like  a  princess  in  disguise  ;  and 
when  she  had  on  anything  new,  —  a  sprigged  calico  and 
her  little  straw  bonnet  with  the  pink  ribbons  and  Mrs. 
Devereux's  black  scarf,  for  instance,  —  you  'd  have  al 
lowed  that  she  might  have  been  daughter  to  the  Queen 
of  Sheba.  I  don't  know,  but  I  rather  think  Dan  would 
n't  have  said  any  more  to  Faith,  from  various  motives, 
you  see,  notwithstanding  the  neighbors  were  still  remon 
strating  with  him,  if  it  had  n't  been  that  Miss  Brown  — 
she  that  lived  round  the  corner  there ;  the  town  's  well 
quit  of  her  now,  poor  thing !  —  went  to  saying  the  same 
stuff  to  Faith,  and  telling  her  all  that  other  folks  said. 
And  Faith  went  home  in  a  passion,  —  some  of  your  timid 
kind  nothing  ever  abashes,  and  nobody  gets  to  the  wind 
ward  of  them,  —  and,  being  perfectly  furious,  fell  to  ac 
cusing  Dan  of  having  brought  her  to  this,  so  that  Dan 


THE   SOUTH  BREAKER.  383 

actually  believed  he  had,  and  was  cut  to  the  quick  with 
contrition,  and  told  her  that  all  the  reparation  he  could 
make  he  was  waiting  and  wishing  to  make,  and  then 
there  came  floods  of  tears.  Some  women  seem  to  have 
set  out  with  the  idea  that  life's  a  desert  for  them  to  cross, 
and  they  Ve  laid  in  a  supply  of  water-bags  accordingly, 

—  but  it 's  the  meanest  weapon  !   And  then  again,  there  's 
men  that  are  iron,  and  not  to  be  bent  under  calamities, 
that  these  tears  can  twist  round  your  little  finger.     Well, 
I  suppose  Faith  concluded  't  was  no  use  to  go  hungry  be 
cause  her  bread  was  n't  buttered  on  both  sides,  but  she 
always  acted  as  if  she  'd  condescended  ninety  degrees  in 
marrying  Dan,  and  Dan  always  seemed  to  feel  that  he  'd 
done  her  a  great  injury ;  and  there  it  was. 

I  kept  in  the  house  for  a  time  ;  mother  was  worse,  — 
and  I  thought  the  less  Dan  saw  of  me  the  better  ;  I  kind 
of  hoped  he'd  forget,  and  find  his  happiness  where  it 
ought  to  be.  But  the  first  time  I  saw  him,  when  Faith  had 
been  his  wife  all  the  spring,  there  was  the  look  in  his  eyes 
that  told  of  the  ache  in  his  heart.  Faith  was  n't  very 
happy  herself,  of  course,  though  she  was  careless  ;  and 
she  gave  him  trouble,  —  keeping  company  with  the  young 
men  just  as  before ;  and  she  got  into  a  way  of  flying 
straight  to  me,  if  Dan  ventured  to  reprove  her  ever  so 
lightly ;  and  stormy  nights,  when  he  was  gone,  and  in  his 
long  trips,  she  always  locked  up  her  doors  and  came  over 
and  got  into  my  bed ;  and  she  was  one  of  those  that  never 
listened  to  reason,  and  it  was  none  so  easy  for  me,  you 
may  suppose. 

Things  had  gone  on  now  for  some  three  years,  and  I  'd 
about  lived  in  my  books,  —  I  'd  tried  to  teach  Faith  some, 
but  she  would  n't  go  any  further  than  newspaper  stories, 

—  when  one  day  Dan  took  her  and  me  to  sail,  and  we 


384  THE   SOUTH  BREAKER. 

were  to  have  had  a  clam-chowder  on  the  Point,  if  the 
squall  had  n't  come.  As  it  was,  we  'd  got  to  put  up  with 
chicken-broth,  and  it  could  n't  have  been  better,  consider 
ing  who  made  it.  It  was  getting  on  toward  the  cool  of 
the  May  evening,  the  sunset  was  round  on  the  other  side 
of  the  house,  but  all  the  east  looked  as  if  the  sky  had  been 
stirred  up  with  currant-juice,  till  it  grew  purple  and  dark, 
and  then  the  two  light-houses  flared  out  and  showed  us 
the  lip  of  froth  lapping  the  shadowy  shore  beyond,  and  I 
heard  father's  voice,  and  he  came  in. 

There  was  nothing  but  the  fire-light  in  the  room,  and  it 
threw  about  great  shadows,  so  that  at  first  entering  all  was 
indistinct ;  but  I  heard  a  foot  behind  father's,  and  then  a 
form  appeared,  and  something,  I  never  could  tell  what, 
made  a  great  shiver  rush  down  my  back,  just  as  when  a 
creature  is  frightened  in  the  dark  at  what  you  don't  see, 
and  so,  though  my  soul  was  unconscious,  my  body  felt  that 
there  was  danger  in  the  air.  Dan  had  risen  and. lighted 
the  lamp  that  swings  in  the  chimney,  and  father  first  of 
all  had  gone  up  and  kissed  mother,  and  left  the  stranger 
standing  ;  then  he  turned  round,  saying,  — 

"  A  tough  day,  —  it 's  been  a  tough  day  ;  and  here  's 
some  un  to  prove  it.  Georgie,  hope  that  pot's  steam  don't 
belie  it,  for  Mr.  Gabriel  Verelay  and  I  want  a  good  sup 
per  and  a  good  bed." 

At  this,  the  stranger,  still  standing,  bowed. 

"  Here  's  the  one,  father,"  said  I.  "  But  about  the  bed, 
—  Faith  '11  have  to  stay  here,  —  and  I  don't  see  —  unless 
Dan  takes  him  over  —  " 

"  That  I  '11  do,"  said  Dan. 

"All  right,"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  voice  that  you  did  n't 
seem  to  notice  while  he  was  speaking,  but  that  you  remem 
bered  afterwards  like  the  ring  of  any  silver  thing  that  has 


THE   SOUTH  BREAKER.  385 

been  thrown  down  ;  and  he  dropped  his  hat  on  the  floor 
and  drew  near  the  fireplace,  warming  hands  that  were 
slender  and  brown,  but  shapely  as  a  woman's.  I  was 
taking  up  the  supper ;  so  I  only  gave  him  a  glance  or 
two,  and  saw  him  standing  there,  his  left  hand  extended 
to  the  blaze,  and  his  eye  resting  lightly  and  then  earnestly 
on  Faith  in  her  pretty  sleep,  and  turning  away  much  as 
one  turns  from  a  picture.  At  length  I  came  to  ask  him 
to  sit  by,  and  at  that  moment  Faith's  eyes  opened. 

Faith  always  woke  up  just  as  a  baby  does,  wide  and 
bewildered,  and  the  fire  had  flushed  her  cheeks,  and  her 
hair  was  disordered,  and  she  fixed  her  gaze  on  him  as  if 
he  had  stepped  out  of  her  dream,  her  lips  half  parted  and 
then  curling  in  a  smile,  —  but  in  a  second  he  moved  off 
with  me,  and  Faith  slipped  down  and  into  the  little  bed 
room. 

Well,  we  did  n't  waste  many  words  until  father  'd  lost 
the  edge  of  his  appetite,  and  then  I  told  about  Faith. 

"  'F  that  don't  beat  the  Dutch  !  "  said  father.  "Here 's 
Mr.  — Mr.  — " 

"  Gabriel,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Yes,  —  Mr.  Gabriel  Verelay  been  served  the  same 
trick  by  the  same  squall,  only  worse  and  more  of  it, — 
knocked  off  the  yacht  —  What 's  that  you  call  her  ?  " 

"  La  belle  Louise." 

"  And  left  for  drowned,  —  if  they  see  him  go  at  all. 
But  he  could  n't  'a'  sinked  in  that  sea,  if  he  'd  tried.  He 
kep'  afloat ;  we  blundered  into  him  ;  and  here  he  is." 

Dan  and  I  looked  round  in  considerable  surprise,  for 
he  was  dry  as  an  August  leaf. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  stranger,  coloring,  and  with  the  least 
little  turn  of  his  words,  as  if  he  did  n't  always  speak  Eng 
lish,  "  the  good  capitain  reached  shore,  and,  finding  sticks, 
17  Y 


386  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

he  kindled  a  fire,  and  we  did  dry  our  clothes  until  it  made 
fine  weather  once  more." 

"  Yes,"  said  father  ;  "  but 't  would  n't  been  quite  such 
fine  weather,  I  reckon,  if  this  'd  gone  to  the  fishes  ! "  And 
he  pushed  something  across  the  table. 

It  was  a  pouch  with  steel  snaps,  and  well  stuffed.  The 
stranger  colored  again,  and  held  his  hand  for  it,  and  the 
snap  burst,  and  great  gold  pieces,  English  coin  and  very 
old  French  ones,  rolled  about  the  table,  and  father  shut 
his  eyes  tight ;  and  just  then  Faith  came  back  and  slip 
ped  into  her  chair.  I  saw  her  eyes  sparkle  as  we  all 
reached,  laughing  and  joking,  to  gather  them ;  and  Mr. 
Gabriel,  —  we  got  into  the  way  of  calling  him  so,  —  he 
liked  it  best,  —  hurried  to  get  them  out  of  sight  as  if  he  'd 
committed  some  act  of  ostentation.  And  then,  to  make 
amends,  he  threw  off  what  constraint  he  had  worn  in  this 
new  atmosphere  of  ours,  and  was  so  gay,  so  full  of  ques 
tions  and  quips  and  conceits,  all  spoken  in  his  strange 
way,  his  voice  was  so  sweet,  and  he  laughed  so  much 
and  so  like  a  boy,  and  his  words  had  so  much  point 
and  brightness,  that  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  the 
showers  of  colored  stars  in  fireworks.  Dan  felt  it  like 
a  play,  sat  quiet,  but  enjoying,  and  I  saw  he  liked  it ;  — 
the  fellow  had  a  way  of  attaching  every  one.  Father  was 
uproarious,  and  kept  calling  out,  "  Mother,  do  you  hear  ? 
—  d'  you  hear  that,  mother  ?  "  And  Faith,  she  was  near, 
taking  it  all  in  as  a  flower  does  sunshine,  only  smiling  a 
little,  and  looking  utterly  happy.  Then  I  hurried  to  clear 
up,  and  Faith  sat  in  the  great  arm-chair,  and  father  got 
out  the  pipes,  and  you  could  hardly  see  across  the  room 
for  the  wide  tobacco-wreaths  ;  and  then  it  was  father's 
turn,  and  he  told  story  after  story  of  the  hardships  and 
the  dangers  and  the  charms  of  our  way  of  living.  And  I 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  387 

could  see  Mr.  Gabriel's  cheek  blanch,  and  he  would  bend 
forward,  forgetting  to  smoke,  and  his  breath  coming  short, 
and  then  right  himself  like  a  boat  after  lurching, — he  had 
such  natural  ways,  and  except  that  he  'd  maybe  been  a 
spoiled  child,  he  would  have  had  a  good  heart,  as  hearts  go. 
And  nothing  would  do  at  last  but  he  must  stay  and  live 
the  same  scenes  for  a  little;  and  father  told  him't  would  n't 
pay,  —  they  were  n't  so  much  to  go  through  with  as  to 
tell  of,  —  there  was  too  much  prose  in  the  daily  life,  and 
too  much  dirt,  and  't  wa'n't  fit  for  gentlemen.  Oh,  he 
said,  he  'd  been  used  to  roughing  it,  —  woodsing,  camping 
and  gunning  and  yachting,  ever  since  he  'd  been  a  free 
man.  He  was  a  Canadian,  and  had  been  cruising  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  Florida,  —  and  now,  as  his  compan 
ions  would  go  on  without  him,  he  had  a  mind  to  try  a  bit 
of  coast-life.  And  could  he  board  here  ?  or  was  there 
any  handy  place  ?  And  father  said,  there  was  Dan,  — 
Dan  Devereux,  a  man  that  had  n't  his  match  at  par  or 
helm.  And  Mr.  Gabriel  turned  his  keen  eye  and  bowed 
again,  —  and  could  n't  Dan  take  Mr.  Gabriel  ?  And 
before  Dan  could  answer,  for  he  'd  referred  it  to  Faith, 
Mr.  Gabriel  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  was  humming 
a  little  French  song  and  stirring  the  coals  with  the  tongs. 
And  that  put  father  off  in  a  fresh  remembrance  ;  and  as 
the  hours  lengthened,  the  stories  grew  fearful,  and  he 
told  them  deep  into  the  midnight,  till  at  last  Mr.  Gabriel 
stood  up. 

"  No  more,  good  friend,"  said  he.  "  But  I  will  have  a 
taste  of  this  life  perilous.  And  now  where  is  it  that 
I  go?" 

Dan  also  stood  up. 

"  My  little  woman,"  said  he,  glancing  at  Faith,  "  thinks 
there  's  a  corner  for  you,  sir." 


388  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  — "  And  Mr.  Gabriel  paused, 
with  a  shadow  skimming  over  his  clear  dark  face. 

Dan  wondered  what  he  was  begging  pardon  for,  but 
thought  perhaps  he  had  n't  heard  him,  so  he  repeated,  — 

"  My  wife,"  —  nodding  over  his  shoulder  at  Faith, 
"  she 's  my  wife,  —  thinks  there  's  a  —  " 

"  She  's  your  wife  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gabriel,  his  eyes  open 
ing  and  brightening  the  way  an  aurora  runs  up  the  sky, 
and  looking  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other,  as  if  he 
could  n't  understand  how  so  delicate  a  flower  grew  on  so 
thorny  a  stem. 

The  red  flushed  up  Dan's  face,  —  and  up  mine,  too,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  —  but  in  a  minute  the  stranger  had 
dropped  his  glance. 

"  And  why  did  you  not  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  that  I  might 
have  found  her  less  beautiful  ?  " 

Then  he  raised  his  shoulders,  gave  her  a  saucy  bow, 
with  his  hand  on  Dan's  arm,  —  Dan,  who  was  now  too 
well  pleased  at  having  Faith  made  happy  by  a  compli 
ment  to  sift  it,  —  and  they  went  out. 

But  I  was  angry  enough  ;  and  you  may  imagine  I 
was  n't  much  soothed  by  seeing  Faith,  who  'd  been  so 
die-away  all  the  evening,  sitting  up  before  my  scrap  of 
looking-glass,  trying  in  my  old  coral  ear-rings,  bowing  up 
my  ribbons,  and  plaiting  and  prinking  till  the  clock 
frightened  her  into  bed. 

The  next  morning,  mother,  who  was  n't  used  to  such  dis 
turbance,  was  ill, 'and  I  was  kept  pretty  busy  tending  on  her 
for  two  or  three  days.  Faith  had  insisted  on  going  home 
the  first  thing  after  breakfast,  and  in  that  time  I  heard  no 
more  of  anybody,  —  for  father  was  out  with  the  night- 
tides,  and,  except  to  ask  how  mother  did,  and  if  I  'd  seen 
the  stray  from  the  Lobblelyese  again,  was  too  tired  for 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKEK.  389 

talking  when  he  came  back.  That  had  been  —  let  me 
see  —  on  a  Monday,  I  think,  —  yes,  on  a  Monday  ;  and 
Thursday  evening,  as  in-doors  had  begun  to  tell  on  me, 
and  mother  was  so  much  improved,  I  thought  I  'd  run  out 
for  a  walk  along  the  sea-wall.  The  sunset  was  creeping 
round  everything,  and  lying  in  great  sheets  on  the  broad, 
still  river,  the  children  were  frolicking  in  the  water,  and 
all  was  so  gay,  and  the  air  was  so  sweet,  that  I  went  lin 
gering  along  farther  than  I  'd  meant,  and  by  and  by  who 
should  I  see  but  a  couple  sauntering  toward  me  at  my 
own  gait,  and  one  of  them  was  Faith.  She  had  on  a 
muslin  with  little  roses  blushing  all  over  it,  and  she  floated 
along  in  it  as  if  she  were  in  a  pink  cloud,  and  she  'd 
snatched  a  vine  of  the  tender  young  woodbine  as  she 
went,  and,  throwing  it  round  her  shoulders,  held  the  two 
ends  in  one  hand  like  a  ribbon,  while  with  the  other  she 
swung  her  white  sun-bonnet.  She  laughed,  and  shook 
her  head  at  me,  and  there,  large  as  life,  under  the  dark 
braids  dangled  my  coral  ear-rings,  that  she  'd  adopted 
without  leave  or  license.  She  'd  been  down  to  the  lower 
landing  to  meet  Dan,  —  a  thing  she'  d  done  before  —  I 
don't  know  when,  —  and  was  walking  up  with  Mr.  Gabriel 
while  Dan  stayed  behind  to  see  to  things.  I  kept  them 
talking,  and  Mr.  Gabriel  was  sparkling  with  fun,  for  he  'd 
got  to  feeling  acquainted,  and  it  had  put  him  in  high 
spirits  to  get  ashore  at  this  hour,  though  he  liked  the  sea, 
and  we  were  all  laughing,  when  Dan  came  up.  Now  I 
must  confess  I  hadn't  fancied  Mr.  Gabriel  over  and 
above  ;  I  suppose  my  first  impression  had  hardened  into 
a  prejudice ;  and  after  I  'd  fathomed  the  meaning  of 
Faith's  fine  feathers  I  liked  him  less  than  ever.  But 
when  Dan  came  up,  he  joined  right  in,  gay  and  hearty, 
and  liking  his  new  acquaintance  so  much,  that,  thinks  I, 


390  THE   SOUTH  BREAKER. 

he  must  know  best,  and  I  '11  let  him  look  out  for  his 
interests  himself.  It  would  'a'  been  no  use,  though, 
for  Dan  to  pretend  to  beat  the  Frenchman  at  his  own 
weapons,  —  and  I  don't  know  that  I  should  have  cared  to 
have  him.  The  older  I  grow,  the  less  I  think  of  your 
mere  intellect ;  throw  learning  out  of  the  scales,  and  give 
me  a  great,  warm  heart,  —  like  Dan's. 

Well,  it  was  getting  on  in  the  evening,  when  the  latch 
lifted,  and  in  ran  Faith.  She  twisted  my  ear-rings  out 
of  her  hair,  exclaiming, — 

"  Oh,  Georgie,  are  you  busy  ?  Can't  you  perse  my 
ears  now  ?  " 

"  Pierce  them  yourself,  Faith." 

"  Well,  pierce,  then.  But  I  can't,  —  you  know  I  can't. 
Won't  you  now,  Georgie  ?  "  and  she  tossed  the  ear-rings 
into  my  lap. 

"  Why,  Faith,"  said  I,  "  how  'd  you  contrive  to  wear 
these,  if  your  ears  are  n't  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  tied  them  on.     Come  now,  Georgie  !  " 

So  I  got  the  ball  of  yarn  and  the  darning-needle. 

"Oh,  not  such  a  big  one  ! "  cried  she. 

"  Perhaps  you  'd  like  a  cambric  needle,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  want  a  winch,"  she  pouted. 

"  Well,  here  's  a  smaller  one.     Now  kneel  down." 

"Yes,  but  you  wait  a  moment,  till  I  screw  up  my 
courage." 

u  No  need.  You  can  talk,  and  I  '11  take  you  at  una 
wares." 

So  Faith  knelt  down,  and  I  got  all  ready. 

"  And  what  shall  I  talk  about  ?  "  said  she.  "  About 
Aunt  Rhody,  or  Mr.  Gabriel,  or —  I'll  tell  you  the 
queerest  thing,  Georgie  !  Going  to  now  ?  " 

u  Do  be  quiet,  Faith,  and  not  keep  your  head  flirting 


THE  SOUTH  BEEAKER.  391 

about  so  !  "  —  for  she  'd  started  up  to  speak.  Then  she 
composed  herself  once  more. 

"  What  was  I  saying  ?  Oh,  about  that.  Yes,  Georgie, 
the  queerest  thing !  You  see,  this  evening,  when  Dan 
was  out,  I  was  sitting  talkin'  with  Mr.  Gabriel,  and  he 
was  wondering  how  I  came  to  be  dropped  down  here,  so 
I  told  him  all  about  it.  And  he  was  so  interested  that  I 
went  and  showed  him  the  things  I  had  on  when  Dan 
found  me,  —  you  know  they  've  been  kept  real  nice.  And 
he  took  them,  and  looked  them  over,  close,  admiring  them, 
and  —  and  —  admiring  me,  —  and  finally  he  started,  and 
then  held  the  frock  to  the  light,  and  then  lifted  a  little 
plait,  and  in  the  under  side  of  the  belt  lining  there  was  a 
name  very  finely  wrought,  —  Virginie  des  Violets  ;  and 
he  looked  at  all  the  others,  and  in  some  hidden  corner  of 
every  one  was  the  initials  of  the  same  name,  —  V.  des  V. 

"'That  should  be  your  name,  Mrs.  Devereux,'  says 
he. 

" '  Oh,  no ! '  says  I.     *  My  name 's  Faith.' 

"  Well,  and  on  that  he  asked,  was  there  no  more  ;  and 
so  I  took  off  the  little  chain  that  I  've  always  worn  and 
showed  him  that,  and  he  asked  if  there  was  a  face  in  it, 
in  what  we  thought  was  a  coin,  you  know ;  and  I  said, 
oh,  it  did  n't  open  ;  and  he  turned  it  over  and  over,  and 
finally  something  snapped,  and  there  was  a  face,  —  here, 
you  shall  see  it,  Georgie." 

And  Faith  drew  it  from  her  bosom,  and  opened  and 
held  if  before  me  ;  for  I  'd  sat  with  my  needle  poised,  and 
forgetting  to  strike.  And  there  was  the  face  indeed,  a 
sad,  serious  face,  dark  and  sweet,  yet  the  image  of  Faith, 
and  with  the  same  mouth,  —  that  so  lovely  in  a  woman 
becomes  weak  in  a  man,  —  and  on  the  other  side  there 
were  a  few  threads  of  hair,  with  the  same  darkness  and 


392  THE   SOUTH  BREAKER. 

fineness  as  Faith's  hair,  and  under  them  a  little  picture 
chased  in  the  gold  and  enamelled,  which,  from  what  I  've 
read  since,  I  suppose  must  have  been  the  crest  of  the 
Des  Violets. 

"And  what  did  Mr.  Gabriel  say  then  ?  "  I  asked,  giving 
it  back  to  Faith,  who  put  her  head  into  the  old  position 
again. 

"  Oh,  he  acted  real  queer.  Talked  French,  too, —  O,  so 
fast !  l  The  very  man  ! '  then  he  cried  out.  '  The  man 
himself!  His  portrait, — I  have  seen  it  a  hundred  times !' 
And  then  he  told  me  that  about  a  dozen  years  ago  or 
more,  a  ship  sailed  from  —  from  —  I  forget  the  place  ex 
actly,  somewhere  up  there  where  he  came  from,  —  Mr. 
Gabriel,  I  mean,  —  and  among  the  passengers  was  this 
man  and  his  wife,  and  his  little  daughter,  whose  name 
was  Virginie  des  Violets,  and  the  ship  was  never  heard 
from  again.  But  he  says  that  without  a  doubt  I  'm  the 
little  daughter  and  my  name  is  Virginie,  though  I  sup 
pose  every  one  '11  call  me  Faith.  Oh,  and  that  is  n't  the 
queerest.  The  queerest  is,  this  gentleman,"  and  Faith 
lifted  her  head,  "  was  very  rich.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  he  owned.  Lands  that  you  can  walk  on  a  whole 
day  and  not  come  to  the  end,  and  ships,  and  gold.  And 
the  whole  of  it 's  lying  idle  and  waiting  for  an  heir,  — 
and  I,  Georgie,  am  the  heir." 

And  Faith  told  it  with  cheeks  burning  and  eyes  shining, 
but  yet  quite  as  if  she  'd  been  born  and  brought  up  in  the 
knowledge. 

"  It  don't  seem  to  move  you  much,  Faith,"  said  I,  per 
fectly  amazed,  although  I  'd  frequently  expected  something 
of  the  kind. 

"  Well,  I  may  never  get  it,  and  so  on.  If  I  do,  I  '11 
give  you  a  silk  dress  and  set  you  up  in  a  bookstore.  But 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  393 

here  's  a  queerer  thing  yet.  Des  Violets  is  the  way  Mr. 
Gabriel's  own  name  is  spelt,  and  his  father  and  mine  — 
his  mother  and  —  Well,  some  way  or  other  we  're  sort 
of  cousins.  Only  think,  Georgie  !  is  n't  that  —  I  thought, 
to  be  sure,  when  he  quartered  at  our  house,  Dan  'd  begin 
to  take  me  to  do,  if  I  looked  at  him  sideways,  —  make 
the  same  fuss  that  he  does  if  I  nod  to  any  of  the  other 
young  men." 

"  I  don't  think  Dan  speaks  before  he  should,  Faith." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  Virginie  ?  "  says  she,  laughing. 

"  Because  Faith  you  've  always  been,  and  Faith  you  '11 
have  to  remain,  with  us,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

"  Well,  that 's  as  it  may  be.  But  Dan  can't  object  now 
to  my  going  where  I  'm  a  mind  to  with  my  own  cousin ! " 
And  here  Faith  laid  her  ear  on  the  ball  of  yarn  again. 

"  Hasten,  headsman  ! "  said  she,  out  of  a  novel,  "  or 
they  '11  wonder  where  I  am." 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "just  let  me  run  the  needle  through 
the  emery." 

"  Yes,  Georgie,"  said  Faith,  going  back  with  her  mem 
ories  while  I  sharpened  my  steel,  "  Mr.  Gabriel  and  I  are 
kin.  And  he  said  that  the  moment  he  laid  eyes  on  me 
he  knew  I  was  of  different  blood  from  the  rest  of  the  peo 
ple— " 

"  What  people  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  Why,  you,  and  Dan,  and  all  these.  And  he  said  he 
was  struck  to  stone  when  he  heard  I  was  married  to  Dan, 
—  I  must  have  been  entrapped, —  the  courts  would  annul 
it,  —  any  one  could  see  the  difference  between  us  —  " 

Here  was  my  moment,  and  I  did  n't  spare  it,  but  jabbed 
the  needle  into  the  ball  of  yarn,  if  her  ear  did  lie  be 
tween  them. 

"  Yes ! "  says  I,  "  anybody  with  half  an  eye  can  see 
17* 


394  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

the  difference  between  you,  and  that 's  a  fact !  Nobody  'd 
ever  imagine  for  a  breath  that  you  were  deserving  of 
Dan, —  Dan,  who 's  so  noble  he  'd  die  for  what  he  thought 
was  right,  —  you,  who  are  so  selfish  and  idle  and  fickle 
and  —  " 

And  at  that  Faith  burst  out  crying. 

"  Oh,  I  never  expected  you  'd  talk  about  me  so,  Geor- 
gie  ! "  said  she  between  her  sobs.  "  How  could  /  tell  you 
were  such  a  mighty  friend  of  Dan's  ?  And  besides,  if 
ever  I  was  Virginie  des  Violets,  I  'm  Faith  Devereux 
now,  and  Dan  '11  resent  any  one's  speaking  so  about  his 
wife ! " 

And  she  stood  up,  the  tears  sparkling  like  diamonds  in 
her  flashing  dark  eyes,  her  cheeks  red,  and  her  little  fist 
clenched. 

"  That 's  the  right  spirit,  Faith,"  says  I,  "  and  I  'm  glad 
to  see  you  show  it.  And  as  for  this  young  Canadian,  the 
best  thing  to  do  with  him  is  to  send  him  packing.  I  don't 
believe  a  word  he  says ;  it 's  more  than  likely  nothing 
but  to  get  into  your  good  graces." 

"  But  there  's  the  names,"  said  she,  so  astonished  that 
she  did  n't  remember  she  was  angry. 

"  Happened  so." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  '  Happened  so ' !  A  likely  story  !  It 's 
nothing  but  your  envy,  and  that 's  all ! " 

"  Faith ! "  says  I,  for  I  forgot  she  did  n't  know  how 
close  she  struck. 

"  Well,  —  I  mean  —  There,  don't  let 's  talk  about  it 
any  more  !  How  under  the  sun  am  I  going  to  get  these 
ends  tied  ?  " 

"  Come  here.     There  !     Now  for  the  other  one." 

"  No,  I  sha'n't  let  you  do  that ;  you  hurt  me  dreadfully, 
and  you  got  angry,  and  took  the  big  needle." 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  395 

€ 

"  I  thought  you  expected  to  be  hurt." 

"  I  did  n't  expect  to  be  stabbed." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  please.  I  suppose  you  '11  go  round 
with  one  ear-ring." 

"  Like  a  little  pig  with  his  ear  cropped  ?  No,  I  shall 
do  it  myself.  See  there,  Georgie  !  "  and  she  threw  a  bit 
of  a  box  into  my  hands. 

I  opened  it,  and  there  lay  inside,  on  their  velvet  cush 
ion,  a  pair  of  the  prettiest  things  you  ever  saw,  —  a  tiny 
bunch  of  white  grapes,  and  every  grape  a  round  pearl, 
and  all  hung  so  that  they  would  tinkle  together  on  their 
golden  stems  every  time  Faith  shook  her  head,  —  and 
she  had  a  cunning  little  way  of  shaking  it  often  enough. 

"  THese  must  have  cost  a  penny,  Faith,"  said  I. 
«  Where  'd  you  get  them  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Gabriel  gave  them  to  me  just  now.  He  went 
up-town  and  bought  them.  And  I  don't  want  him  to 
know  that  my  ears  were  n't  bored." 

"  Mr.  Gabriel  ?     And  you  took  them  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  took  them,  and  mighty  glad  to  get  them." 

"  Faith,  dear,"  said  I,  "  don't  you  know  that  you 
should  n't  accept  presents  from  gentlemen,  and  especially 
now  you  're  a  married  woman,  and  especially  from  those 
of  higher  station  ?  " 

"  But  he  is  n't  higher." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean.  And  then,  too,  he  is  ;  for 
one  always  takes  rank  from  one's  husband." 

Faith  looked  rather  downcast  at  this. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  —  "  and  pearls  and  calico  — " 

"Just  because  you  haven't  got  a  pair  yourself! 
There,  be  still !  I  don't  want  any  of  your  instructions 
in  duty ! " 

"  You   ought  to  put  up  with  a  word  from  a  friend, 


396  THE  SOUTH  BREAKEK. 

* 

Faith,"  said  I.  "  You  always  come  to  me  with  your 
grievances.  And  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do.  You  used 
to  like  these  coral  branches  of  mine  ;  and  if  you  '11  give 
those  back  to  Mr.  Gabriel,  you  shall  have  the  coral." 

Well,  Faith  she  hesitated,  standing  there  trying  to  mus 
ter  her  mind  to  the  needle,  and  it  ended  by  her  taking 
the  coral,  though  I  don't  believe  she  returned  the  pearls, 
—  but  we  none  of  us  ever  saw  them  afterwards. 

We  'd  been  talking  in  a  pretty  low  tone,  because  mother 
was  asleep  ;  and  just  as  she  'd  finished  the  other  ear,  and 
a  little  drop  of  blood  stood  up  on  it  like  a  live  ruby,  the 
door  opened  and  Dan  and  Mr.  Gabriel  came  in.  There 
never  was  a  prettier  picture  than  Faith  at  that  moment, 
and  so  the  young  stranger  thought,  for  he  stared  at  her, 
smiling  and  at  ease,  just  as  if  she  'd  been  hung  in  a  gal 
lery  and  he  'd  bought  a  ticket.  So  then  he  sat  down  and 
repeated  to  Dan  and  mother  what  she  'd  told  me,  and  he 
promised  to  send  for  the  papers  to  prove  it  all.  But  he 
never  did  send  for  them,  —  delaying  and  delaying,  till  the 
summer  wore  away ;  and  perhaps  there  were  such  papers 
and  perhaps  there  were  n't.  I  've  always  thought  he 
did  n't  want  his  own  friends  to  know  where  he  was.  Dan 
might  be  a  rich  man  to-day,  if  he  chose  to  look  them  up  ; 
but  he  'd  scorch  at  a  slow  fire  before  he  'd  touch  a  copper 
of  it.  Father  never  believed  a  word  about  it,  when  we 
recited  it  again  to  him. 

"  So  Faith  's  come  into  her  fortune,  has  she  ?  "  said  he. 
"  Pretty  child !  She  'a'n't  had  so  much  before  sence  she 
fell  heir  to  old  Miss  Devereux's  best  chany,  her  six  silver 
spoons,  and  her  surname." 

So  the  days  passed,  and  the  greater  part  of  every  one 
Mr.  Gabriel  was  dabbling  in  the  water  somewhere. 
There  was  n't  a  brook  within  ten  miles  that  he  did  n't 


THE  SOUTH  BEEAKER.  397 

empty  of  trout,  for  Dan  knew  the  woods  as  well  as  the 
shores,  and  he  knew  the  clear  nights  when  the  insects  can 
keep  free  from  the  water  so  that  next  day  the  fish  rise 
hungry  to  the  surface ;  and  so  sometimes  in  the  brightest 
of  May  noons  they  'd  bring  home  a  string  of  those  beau 
ties,  speckled  with  little  tongues  -"of  flame ;  and  Mr. 
Gabriel  would  have  them  cooked,  and  make  us  all  taste 
them,  —  for  we  don't  care  much  for  that  sort,  down  here 
on  the  Flats ;  we  should  think  we  were  famished  if  we 
had  to  eat  fish.  And  then  they  'd  lie  in  wait  all  day  for 
the  darting  pickerel  in  the  little  Stream  of  Shadows  above ; 
and  when  it  came  June,  up  the  river  he  went  trolling  for 
bass,  and  he  used  a  different  sort  of  bait  from  the  rest,  — 
bass  won't  bite  much  at  clams,  —  and  he  hauled  in  great 
forty-pounders.  And  sometimes  in  the  afternoons,  he 
took  out  Faith  and  me,  —  for,  as  Faith  would  go,  whether 
or  no,  I  always  made  it  a  point  to  put  by  everything  and 
go  too  ;  and  I  used  to  try  and  get  some  of  the  other  girls 
in,  but  Mr.  Gabriel  never  would  take  them,  though  he 
was  hail-fellow-well-met  with  everybody,  and  was  every 
body's  favorite,  and  it  was  known  all  round  how  he  found 
out  Faith,  and  that  alone  made  him  so  popular,  that  I  do 
believe,  if  he  'd  only  taken  out  naturalization  papers,  we 
'd  have  sent  him  to  General  Court.  And  then  it  grew 
time  for  the  river  mackerel,  and  they  used  to  bring  in  at 
sunset  two  or  three  hundred  in  a  shining  heap,  together 
with  great  lobsters,  that  looked  as  if  they  'd  been  carved 
out  of  heliotrope-stone,  and  so  old  that  they  were  barna 
cled.  And  it  was  so  novel  to  Mr.  Gabriel,  that  he  used 
to  act  as  if  he  'd  fallen  in  fairy-land. 

After  all,  I  don't  know  what  we  should  have  done  with 
out  him  that  summer :  he  always  paid  Dan  or  father  a  dol 
lar  a  day  and  the  hire  of  the  boat ;  and  the  times  were  so 


398  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

hard,  and  there  was  so  little  doing,  that,  but  for  this,  and 
packing  the  barrels  of  clam-bait,  they  'd  have  been  idle 
and  fared  sorely.  But  we  'd  rather  have  starved :  though, 
as  for  that,  I  've  heard  father  say  there  never  was  a  time 
when  he  could  n't  go  out  and  catch  some  sort  of  fish  and 
sell  it  for  enough  to  get  us  something  to  eat.  And  then 
this  Mr.  Gabriel,  he  had  such  a  winning  way  with  him, 
he  was  as  quick  at  wit  as  a  bird  on  the  wing,  he  had  a 
story  or  a  song  for  every  point,  he  seemed  to  take  to  our 
simple  life  as  if  he  'd  been  born  to  it,  and  he  was  as  much 
interested  in  all  our  trifles  as  we  were  ourselves.  Then, 
he  was  so  sympathetic,  he  felt  everybody's  troubles,  he 
went  to  the  city  and  brought  down  a  wonderful  doctor  to 
see  mother,  and  he  got  her  queer  things  that  helped  her 
more  than  you  'd  have  thought  anything  could,  and  he 
went  himself  and  set  honeysuckles  out  all  round  Dan's 
house,  so  that  before  summer  was  over  it  was  a  bower  of 
great  sweet  blows,  and  he  had  an  alms  for  every  beggar, 
and  a  kind  word  for  every  urchin,  and  he  followed  Dan 
about  as  a  child  would  follow  some  big  shaggy  dog.  He 
introduced,  too,  a  lot  of  new-fangled  games ;  he  was  what 
they  called  a  gymnast,  and  in  feats  of  rassling  there 
was  n't  a  man  among  them  all  but  he  could  stretch  as  fiat 
as  a  flounder.  And  then  he  always  treated.  Everybody 
had  a  place  for  him  soon,  —  even  /  did ;  and  as  for  Dan, 
he  'd  have  cut  his  own  heart  out  of  his  body,  if  Mr.  Ga 
briel  'd  had  occasion  to  use  it.  He  was  a  different  man  from 
any  Dan  'd  ever  met  before,  something  finer,  and  he  might 
have  been  better,  and  Dan's  loyal  soul  was  glad  to  ac 
knowledge  him  master,  and  I  declare  I  believe  he  felt 
just  as  the  Jacobites  in  the  old  songs  used  to  feel  for 
royal  Charlie.  There  are  some  men  born  to  rule  with  a 
haughty,  careless  sweetness,  and  others  born  to  die  for 
them  with  stern  and  dogged  devotion. 


THE  SOUTH  BKEAKEK.  399 

Well,  and  all  this  while  Faith  was  n't  standing  still ; 
she  was  changing  steadily,  as  much  as  ever  the  moon 
changed  in  the  sky.  I  noticed  it  first  one  day  when  Mr. 
Gabriel'd  caught  every  child  in  the  region  and  given 
them  a  picnic  in  the  woods  of  the  Stack- Yard- Gate,  and 
Faith  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  tiptoeing  round  every  one 
as  she  used  to  do,  but  I  found  her  at  last  standing  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  —  Mr.  Gabriel  dancing  here  and  there, 
seeing  to  it  that  all  should  be  as  gay  as  he  seemed  to  be, 
—  quiet  and  dignified  as  you  please,  and  feeling  every 
one  of  her  inches.  But  it  was  n't  dignity  really  that  was 
the  matter  with  Faith,  —  it  was  just  gloom.  She  'd 
brighten  up  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  down  would 
fall  the  cloud  again  ;  she  took  to  long  fits  of  dreaming,  and 
sometimes  she  'd  burst  out  crying  at  any  careless  word,  so 
that  my  heart  fairly  bled  for  the  poor  child,  —  for  one 
could  n't  help  seeing  that  she  'd  some  secret  unhappiness 
or  other,  —  and  I  was  as  gentle  and  soothing  to  her  as  it 's 
in  my  nature  to  be.  She  was  in  to  our  house  a  good 
deal ;  she  kept  it  pretty  well  out  of  Dan's  way,  and  I 
hoped  she  'd  get  over  it  sooner  or  later,  and  make  up  her 
mind  to  circumstances.  And  I  talked  to  her  a  sight  about 
Dan,  praising  him  constantly  before  her,  though  I  could  n't 
bear  to  do  it ;  and  finally,  one  very  confidential  evening, 
I  told  her  that  I  'd  been  in  love  with  Dan  myself  once  a 
little,  but  I  'd  seen  that  he  would  marry  her,  and  so  had 
left  off  thinking  about  it ;  for,  do  you  know,  I  thought  it 
might  make  her  set  more  price  on  him  now,  if  she  knew 
somebody  else  had  ever  cared  for  him.  Well,  that  did 
answer  awhile :  whether  she  thought  she  ought  to  make 
it  up  to  Dan,  or  whether  he  really  did  grow  more  in  her 
eyes,  Faith  got  to  being  very  neat  and  domestic  and  praise 
worthy.  But  still  there  was  the  change,  and  it  did  n't 


400  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

make  her  any  the  less  lovely.  Indeed,  if  I  'd  been  a  man, 
I  should  have  cared  for  her  more  than  ever :  it  was  like 
turning  a  child  into  a  woman :  and  I  really  think,  as  Dan 
saw  her  going  about  with  such  a  pleasant  gravity,  her 
pretty  figure  moving  so  quietly,  her  pretty  face  so  still 
and  fair,  as  if  she  had  thoughts  and  feelings  now,  he  be 
gan  to  wonder  what  had  come  over  Faith,  and,  if  she 
were  really  as  charming  as  this,  why  he  had  n't  felt  it  be 
fore  ;  and  then,  you  know,  whether  you  love  a  woman  or 
not,  the  mere  fact  that  she  's  your  wife,  that  her  life  is 
sunk  in  yours,  that  she  's  something  for  you  to  protect, 
and  that  your  honor  lies  in  doing  so,  gives  you  a  certain 
kindly  feeling  that  might  ripen  into  love  any  day  under 
sunshine  and  a  south  wall. 

Blue-fish  were  about  done  with,  when  one  day  Dan 
brought  in  some  mackerel  from  Boon  Island :  they  had  n't 
been  in  the  harbor  for  some  time,  though  now  there  was 
a  probability  of  their  return.  So  they  were  going  out 
when  the  tide  served  —  the  two  boys  —  at  midnight  for 
mackerel,  and  Dan  had  heard  me  wish  for  the  experience 
so  often,  a  long  while  ago,  that  he  said,  Why  should  n't 
they  take  the  girls  ?  and  Faith  snatched  at  the  idea,  and 
with  that  Mr.  Gabriel  agreed  to  fetch  me  at  the  hour,  and 
so  we  parted.  I  was  kind  of  sorry,  but  there  was  no  help 
for  it. 

When  we  started,  it  was  in  that  clear  crystal  dark  that 
looks  as  if  you  could  see  through  it  forever  till  you 
reached  infinite  things,  and  we  seemed  to  be  in  a  great 
hollow  sphere,  and  the  stars  were  like  living  beings  who 
had  the  night  to  themselves.  Always,  when  I  'in  up  late, 
I  feel  as  if  it  were  something  unlawful,  as  if  affairs  were 
in  progress  which  I  had  no  right  to  witness,  a  kind  of 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  401 

grand  free-masonry.  I  Ve  felt  it  nights  when  I  Ve  been 
watching  with  mother,  and  there  has  come  up  across  the 
heavens  the  great  caravan  of  constellations,  and  a  star 
that  I  'd  pulled  away  the  curtain  on  the  east  side  to  see, 
came  by  and  by  and  looked  in  at  the  south  window ;  but 
I  never  felt  it  as  I  did  this  night.  The  tide  was  near  the 
full  and  so  we  went  slipping  down  the  dark  water  by  the 
starlight ;  and  as  we  saw  them  shining  above  us,  and  then 
looked  down  and  saw  them  sparkling  up  from  beneath,  — 
the  stars,  —  it  really  seemed  as  if  Dan's  oars  must  be  two 
long  wings,  as  if  we  swam  on  them  through  a  motionless 
air.  By  and  by  we  were  in  the  island  creek,  and  far 
ahead,  in  a  streak  of  wind  that  did  n't  reach  us,  we  could 
see  a  pointed  sail  skimming  along  between  the  banks,  as 
if  some  ghost  went  before  to  show  us  the  way ;  and  when 
the  first  hush  and  mystery  wore  off,  Mr.  Gabriel  was 
singing  little  French  songs  in  tunes  like  the  rise  and  fall 
of  the  tide.  While  he  sang  he  rowed,  and  Dan  was 
gangeing  the  hooks.  At  length  Dan  took  the  oars  again, 
and  every  now  and  then  he  paused  to  let  us  float  along 
with  the  tide  as  it  slacked,  and  take  the  sense  of  the  night. 
And  all  the  tall  grass  that  edged  the  side  began  to  wave 
in  a  strange  light,  and  there  blew  on  a  little  breeze,  and 
over  the  rim  of  the  world  tipped  up  a  waning  moon.  If 
there  'd  been  anything  needed  to  make  us  feel  as  if  we 
were  going  to  find  the  Witch  of  Endor,  it  was  this.  It 
was  such  a  strange  moon,  pointing  such  a  strange  way, 
with  such  a  strange  color,  so  remote,  and  so  glassy,  —  it 
was  like  a  dead  moon,  or  the  spirit  of  one,  and  was  per 
fectly  awful. 

"  She  has  come  to  look  at  Faith,"  said  Mr.  Gabriel ; 
for  Faith,  who  once  would  have  been  nodding  here  and 
there  all  about  the  boat,  was  sitting  up  pale  and  sad,  like 


402  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

another  spirit,  to  confront  it.  But  Dan  and  I  both  felt  a 
difference. 

Mr.  Gabriel,  he  stepped  across  and  went  and  sat  down 
behind  Faith,  and  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  her  arm.  Per 
haps  he  did  n't  mind  that  he  touched  her,  —  he  had  a  kind 
of  absent  air ;  but  if  any  one  had  looked  at  the  nervous 
pressure  of  the  slender  fingers,  they  would  have  seen  as 
much  meaning  in  that  touch  as  in  many  an  embrace ;  and 
Faith  lifted  her  face  to  his,  and  they  forgot  that  I  was 
looking  at  them,  and  into  the  eyes  of  both  there  stole  a 
strange  deep  smile,  —  and  my  soul  groaned  within  me. 
It  made  no  odds  to  me  then  that  the  air  blew  warm  off 
the  land  from  scented  hay-ricks,  that  the  moon  hung  like 
some  exhumed  jewel  in  the  sky,  that  all  the  perfect  night 
was  widening  into  dawn.  I  saw  and  felt  nothing  but  the 
wretchedness  that  must  break  one  day  on  Dan's  head. 
Should  I  warn  him  ?  I  could  n't  do  that.  And  what 
then? 

The  sail  was  up,  we  had  left  the  head-land  and  the 
hills,  and  when  they  furled  it  and  cast  anchor  we  were 
swinging  far  out  on  the  back  of  the  great  monster  that 
was  frolicking  to  itself  and  thinking  no  more  of  us  than 
we  do  of  a  mote  in  the  air.  Elder  Snow,  he  says  that  it 's 
singular  we  regard  day  as  illumination  and  night  as  dark 
ness,  —  day  that  really  hems  us  in  with  narrow  light  and 
shuts  us  upon  ourselves,  night  that  sets  us  free  and  reveals 
to  us  all  the  secrets  of  the  sky.  I  thought  of  that  when 
one  by  one  the  stars  melted  and  the  moon  became  a 
breath,  and  up  over  the  wide  grayness  crept  color  and  ra 
diance  and  the  sun  himself,  —  the  sky  soaring  higher  and 
higher,  like  a  great  thin  bubble  of  flaky  hues,  —  and,  all 
about,  nothing  but  the  everlasting  wash  of  waters  broke 
the  sacred  hush.  And  it  seemed  as  if  God  had  been  with 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  403 

us,  and  withdrawing  we  saw  the  trail  of  His  splendid 
garments,  —  and  I  remembered  the  words  mother  had 
spoken  to  Dan  once  before,  and  why  could  n't  I  leave  him 
in  heavenly  hands  ?  And  then  it  came  into  my  heart  to 
pray.  I  knew  I  had  n't  any  right  to  pray  expecting  to 
be  heard ;  but  yet  mine  would  be  the  prayer  of  the 
humble,  and  was  n't  Faith  of  as  much  consequence  as  a 
sparrow  ?  By  and  by,  as  we  all  sat  leaning  over  the  gun 
wale,  the  words  of  a  hymn  that  I  'd  heard  at  camp-meet 
ings  came  into  my  mind,  and  I  sang  them  out,  loud  and 
clear.  I  always  had  a  good  voice,  though  Dan  'd  never 
heard  me  do  anything  with  it  except  hum  little  low  things, 
putting  mother  to  sleep ;  but  here  I  had  a  whole  sky  to 
sing  in,  and  the  hymns  were  trumpet-calls.  And  one 
after  another  they  kept  thronging  up,  and  there  was  a 
rush  of  feeling  in  them  that  made  you  shiver,  and  as  I 
sang  them  they  thrilled  me  through  and  through.  Wide 
as  the  way  before  us  was,  it  seemed  to  widen  ;  I  felt  my 
self  journeying  with  some  vast  host  towards  the  city  of 
God,  and  its  light  poured  over  us,  and  there  was  nothing 
but  joy  and  love  and  praise  and  exulting  expectancy  in 
my  heart.  And  when  the  hymn  died  on  my  lips  because 
the  words  were  too  faint  and  the  tune  was  too  weak  for 
the  ecstasy,  and  when  the  silence  had  soothed  me  back 
again,  I  turned  and  saw  Dan's  lips  bitten,  and  his  cheek 
white,  and  his  eyes  like  stars,  and  Mr.  Gabriel's  face 
fallen  forward  in  his  hands,  and  he  shaking  with  quick 
sobs  ;  and  as  for  Faith,  —  Faith,  she  had  dropped  asleep, 
and  one  arm  was  thrown  above  her  head,  and  the  other 
lay  where  it  had  slipped  from  Mr.  Gabriel's  loosened 
grasp.  There  's  a  contagion,  you  know,  in  such  things, 
but  Faith  was  never  of  the  catching  kind. 

Well,  this  was  n't  what  we  'd  come  for,  —  turning  all 


404  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

out-doors  into  a  church,  —  though  what 's  a  church  but  a 
place  of  God's  presence  ?  and  for  my  part,  I  never  see 
high  blue  sky  and  sunshine  without  feeling  that.  And  all 
of  a  sudden  there  came  a  school  of  mackerel  splashing 
and  darkening  and  curling  round  the  boat,  after  the  bait 
we  'd  thrown  out  on  anchoring.  'T  would  have  done  you 
good  to  see  Dan  just  at  that  moment ;  you  'd  have  re 
alized  what  it  was  to  have  a  calling.  He  started  up,  for 
getting  everything  else,  his  face  all  flushed,  his  eyes  like 
coals,  his  mouth  tight  and  his  tongue  silent ;  and  how 
many  hooks  he  had  out  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know,  but  he 
kept  jerking  them  in  by  twos  and  threes,  and  finally  they 
bit  at  the  bare  barb  and  were  taken  without  any  bait  at 
all,  just  as  if  they  'd  come  and  asked  to  be  caught.  Mr. 
Gabriel,  he  did  n't  pay  any  attention  at  first,  but  Dan 
called  to  him  to  stir  himself,  and  so  gradually  he  worked 
back  into  his  old  mood ;  but  he  was  more  still  and  some 
thing  sad  all  the  rest  of  the  morning.  Well,  when  we  'd 
gotten  about  enough,  and  they  were  dying  in  the  boat 
there,  as  they  cast  their  scales,  like  the  iris,  we  put  in 
shore  ;  and  building  a  fire,  we  cooked  our  own  dinner  and 
boiled  our  own  coffee.  Many  's  the  icy  winter  night  I  've 
wrapped  up  Dan's  bottle  of  hot  coffee  in  rolls  on  rolls  of 
flannel,  that  he  might  drink  it  hot  and  strong  far  out  at 
sea  in  a  wherry  at  daybreak ! 

But  as  I  was  saying,  —  all  this  time,  Mr.  Gabriel,  he 
scarcely  looked  at  Faith.  At  first  she  did  n't  compre 
hend,  and  then  something  swam  all  over  her  face  as  if  the 
very  blood  in  her  veins  had  grown  darker,  and  there  was 
such  danger  in  her  eye  that  before  we  stepped  into  the 
boat  again  I  wished  to  goodness  I  had  a  life-preserver. 
But  in  the  beginning  the  religious  impression  lasted  and 
gave  him  great  resolutions ;  and  then  strolling  off  and 


THE  SOUTH  BEEAKER.  405 

along  the  beach,  he  fell  in  with  some  men  there  and  did 
as  he  always  did,  scraped  acquaintance.  I  verily  believe 
that  these  men  were  total  strangers,  that  he  'd  never  laid 
eyes  on  them  before,  and  after  a  few  words  he  wheeled 
about.  As  he  did  so,  his  glance  fell  on  Faith  stand 
ing  there  alone  against  the  pale  sky,  for  the  weather  'd 
thickened,  and  watching  the  surf  break  at  her  feet.  He 
was  motionless,  gazing  at  her  long,  and  then,  when  he  had 
turned  once  or  twice  irresolutely,  he  ground  his  heel  into 
the  sand  and  went  back.  The  men  rose  and  wandered 
on  with  him,  and  they  talked  together  for  a  while,  and  I 
saw  money  pass ;  and  pretty  soon  Mr.  Gabriel  returned, 
his  face  vividly  pallid,  but  smiling,  and  he  had  in  his  hand 
some  little  bright  shells  that  you  don't  often  find  on  these 
Northern  beaches,  and  he  said  he  had  bought  them  of 
those  men.  And  all  this  time  he  'd  not  spoken  with  Faith, 
and  there  was  the  danger  yet  in  her  eye.  But  nothing 
came  of  it,  and  I  had  accused  myself  of  nearly  every 
crime  in  the  Decalogue,  and  on  the  way  back  we  had  put 
up  the  lines,  and  Mr.  Gabriel  had  hauled  in  the  lobster- 
net  for  the  last  time.  He  liked  that  branch  of  the  busi 
ness  ;  he  said  it  had  all  the  excitement  of  gambling,  —  the 
slow  settling  downwards,  the  fading  of  the  last  ripple,  the 
impenetrable  depth  and  shade  and  the  mystery  of  the 
work  below,  five  minutes  of  expectation,  and  it  might 
bring  up  a  scale  of  the  sea-serpent,  or  the  king  of  the 
crabs  might  have  crept  in  for  a  nap  in  the  folds,  or  it 
might  come  up  as  if  you  'd  dredged  for  pearls,  or  it  might 
hold  the  great  backward-crawling  lobsters,  or  a  tangle  of 
sea-weed,  or  the  long  yellow  locks  of  some  drowned  girl, 
—  or  nothing  at  all.  So  he  always  drew  in  that  net,  and 
it  needed  muscle,  and  his  was  like  steel,  —  not  good  for 
much  in  the  long  pull,  but  just  for  a  breathing  could 


406  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

handle  the  biggest  boatman  in  the  harbor.  Well,  —  and 
we  'd  hoisted  the  sail  and  were  in  the  creek  once  more, 
for  the  creek  was  only  to  be  used  at  high-water,  and  I  'd 
told  Dan  I  could  n't  be  away  from  mother  over  another 
tide  and  so  we  must  n't  get  aground,  and  he  'd  told  me  not 
to  fret,  there  was  nothing  too  shallow  for  us  on  the  coast. 
"  This  boat,"  said  Dan,  "  she  '11  float  in  a  heavy  dew." 
And  he  began  singing  a  song  he  liked:  — 

"  I  cast  my  line  in  Largo  Bay, 

And  fishes  I  caught  nine : 
There  's  three  to  boil,  and  three  to  fry, 
And  three  to  bait  the  line." 

And  Mr.  Gabriel  'd  never  heard  it  before,  and  he  made 
him  sing  it  again  and  again. 

"  The  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows, 
The  boatie  rows  indeed," 

repeated  Mr.  Gabriel,  and  he  said  it  was  the  only  song  he 
knew  that  held  the  click  of  the  oar  in  the  rowlock. 

The  little  birds  went  skimming  by  us,  as  we  sailed, 
their  breasts  upon  the  water,  and  we  could  see  the  gun 
ners  creeping  through  the  marshes  beside  them. 

"  The  wind  changes,"  said  Mr.  Gabriel.  "  The  equinox 
treads  close  behind  us.  Sst !  Is  it  that  you  do  not  feel  its 
breath  ?  And  you  hear  nothing  ?  " 

"  It 's  the  Soul  of  the  Bar,"  said  Dan ;  and  he  fell  to 
telling  us  one  of  the  wild  stories  that  fishermen  can  tell 
each  other  by  the  lantern,  rocking  outside  at  night  in  the 
dory. 

The  wind  was  dead  east,  and  now  we  flew  before  it, 
and  now  we  tacked  in  it,  up  and  up  the  winding  stream, 
and  always  a  little  pointed  sail  came  skimming  on  in  suit. 

"  What  sail  is  that,  Dan  ? "  asked  I.  "  It  looks  like 
the  one  that  flitted  ahead  this  morning." 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  407 

"  It  is  the  one,"  said  Dan,  —  for  he  'd  brought  up  a 
whole  horde  of  superstitious  memories,  and  a  gloom  that 
had  been  hovering  off  and  on  his  face  settled  there  for 
good.  "  As  much  of  a  one  as  that  was.  It 's  no  sail  at 
all.  It 's  a  death-sign.  And  I  'v<3  never  been  down  here 
and  seen  it  but  trouble  was  on  its  heels.  Georgie  !  there  's 
two  of  them !  " 

We  all  looked,  but  it  was  hidden  in  a  curve,  and  when 
it  stole  in  sight  again  there  were  two  of  them,  filmy  and 
faint  as  spirits'  wings,  —  and  while  we  gazed  they  van 
ished,  whether  supernaturally  or  in  the  mist  that  was  ris 
ing  mast-high  I  never  thought,  for  my  blood  was  frozen 
as  it  ran. 

"  You  have  fear  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Gabriel,  —  his  face  per 
fectly  pale,  and  his  eye  almost  lost  in  darkness.  "  If  it  is 
a  phantom,  it  can  do  you  no  harm." 

Faith's  teeth  chattered,  —  I  saw  them.  He  turned  to 
her,  and  as  their  look  met,  a  spot  of  carnation  burned 
into  his  cheek  almost  as  a  brand  would  have  burned. 
He  seemed  to  be  balancing  some  point,  to  be  searching 
her  and  sifting  her ;  and  Faith  half  rose,  proudly,  and 
pale,  as  if  his  look  pierced  her  with  pain.  The  look  was 
long,  —  but  before  it  fell,  a  glow  and  sparkle  filled  the 
eyes,  and  over  his  face  there  curled  the  deep,  strange 
smile  of  the  morning,  till  the  long  lids  and  heavy  lashes ' 
dropped  and  made  it  sad.  And  Faith,  —  she  started  in  a 
new  surprise,  the  darkness  gathered  and  crept  off  her 
face  as  cream  wrinkles  from  milk,  and  spleen  or  venom 
or  what-not  became  absorbed  again  and  lost,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  her  glance  but  passionate  forgetfulness. 
Some  souls  are  like  the  white  river-lilies,  —  fixed,  yet 
floating ;  but  Mr.  Gabriel  had  no  firm  root  anywhere, 
and  was  blown  about  with  every  breeze,  like  a  leaf 


408  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

on  the  flood.  His  purposes  melted  and  made  with  his 
moods. 

The  wind  got  round  more  to  the  north,  the  mist  fell 
upon  the  waters  or  blew  away  over  the  meadows,  and  it 
was  cold.  Mr.  Gabriel  wrapped  the  cloak  about  Faith 
and  fastened  it,  and  tied  her  bonnet.  Just  now  Dan  was 
so  busy  handling  the  boat  —  and  it  's  rather  risky,  you 
have  to  wriggle  up  the  creek  so  —  that  he  took  little 
notice  of  us.  Then  Mr.  Gabriel  stood  up,  as  if  to  change 
his  position  ;  and  taking  off  his  hat,  he  held  it  aloft,  while 
he  passed  the  other  hand  across  his  forehead.  And  lean 
ing  against  the  mast,  he  stood  so,  many  minutes. 

"  Dan,"  I  said,  "  did  your  spiritual  craft  ever  hang  out 
a  purple  pennant  ?  " 

«  No,"  said  Dan. 

"  Well,"  says  I.  And  we  all  saw  a  little  purple  ribbon 
running  up  the  rope  and  streaming  on  the  air  behind  us. 

"  And  why  do  we  not  hoist  our  own  ? "  said  Mr. 
Gabriel,  putting  on  his  hat.  And  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word,  a  little  green  signal  curled  up  and  flaunted 
above  us  like  a  bunch  of  the  weed  floating  there  in  the 
water  beneath  and  dyeing  all  the  shallows  so  that  they 
looked  like  caves  of  cool  emerald,  and  wide  off  and  over 
them  the  west  burned  smoulderingly  red  like  a  furnace. 
Many  a  time  since,  I  've  felt  the  magical  color  between 
those  banks  and  along  those  meadows,  but-  then  I  felt 
none  of  it ;  every  wit  I  had  was  too  awake  and  alert  and 
fast-fixed  in  watching. 

"  Is  it  that  the  phantoms  can  be  flesh  and  blood  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Gabriel,  laughingly ;  and  lifting  his  arm  again,  he 
hailed  the  foremost. 

"  Boat  ahoy  !     What  names  ?  "  said  he. 

The  answer  came  back  on  the  wind  full  and  round. 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  409 

«  Speed,  and  Follow." 

"  Where  from  ?  "  asked  Dan,  with  just  a  glint  in  his 
eye,  —  for  usually  he  knew  every  boat  on  the  river,  but 
he  did  n't  know  these. 

"  From  the  schooner  Flyaway,  taking  in  sand  over  at 
Black  Rocks." 

Then  Mr.  Gabriel  spoke  again,  as  they  drew  near,  — 
but  whether  he  spoke  so  fast  that  I  could  n't  understand, 
or  whether  he  spoke  French,  I  never  knew ;  and  Dan, 
with  SQme  kind  of  feeling  that  it  was  Mr.  Gabriel's  ac 
quaintance,  suffered  the  one  we  spoke  to  pass  us. 

Once  or  twice  Mr.  Gabriel  had  begun  some  question  to 
Dan  about  the  approaching  weather,  but  had  turned  it 
off  again  before  anybody  could  answer.  You  see  he  had 
some  little  nobility  left,  and  did  n't  want  the  very  man  he 
was  going  to  injure  to  show  him  how  to  do  it.  Now, 
however,  he  asked  him  that  was  steering  the  Speed  by, 
if  it  was  going  to  storm. 

The  man  thought  it  was. 

"  How  is  it  then,  that  your  schooner  prepares  to  sail  ?  " 

"  Oh,  wind  's  backed  in ;  we  '11  be  on  blue  water  be 
fore  the  gale  breaks,  I  reckon,  and  then  beat  off  where 
there  's  plenty  of  sea-room." 

"  But  she  shall  make  shipwreck  !  " 

" '  Not  if  the  court  know  herself,  and  he  think  she  do,' " 
was  the  reply  from  another,  as  they  passed. 

Somehow  I  began  to  hate  myself,  I  was  so  full  of 
poisonous  suspicions.  How  did  Mr.  Gabriel  know  the 
schooner  prepared  to  sail  ?  And  this  man,  could  he  tell 
boom  from  bowsprit  ?  I  did  n't  believe  it ;  he  had  the 
hang  of  the  up-river  folks.  But  there  stood  Mr.  Gabriel, 
so  quiet  and  easy,  his  eyelids  down,  and  he  humming  an 
underbreath  of  song  ;  and  there  sat  Faith,  so  pale  and  so 
18 


410  THE   SOUTH  BREAKER. 

pretty,  a  trifle  sad,  a  trifle  that  her  conscience  would 
brew  for  her,  whether  or  no.  Yet,  after  all,  there  was  an 
odd  expression"  in  Mr.  Gabriel's  face,  an  eager,  restless 
expectation  ;  and  if  his  lids  were  lowered,  it  was  only  to 
hide  the  spark  that  flushed  and  quenched  in  his  eye  like 
a  beating  pulse. 

We  had  reached  the  draw,  it  was  lifted  for  the  Speed, 
she  had  passed,  and  the  wind  was  in  her  sail  once  more. 
Yet,  somehow,  she  hung  back.  And  then  I  saw  that  the 
men  in  her  were  of  those  with  whom  Mr.  Gabriel  had 
spoken  at  noon.  Dan's  sail  fell  slack,  and  we  drifted 
slowly  through,  while  he  poled  us  along  with  an  oar. 

"  Look  out,  Georgie  !  "  said  Dan,  for  he  thought  I  was 
going  to  graze  my  shoulder  upon  the  side  there.  I  look 
ed  ;  and  when  I  turned  again,  Mr.  Gabriel  was  rising  up 
from  some  earnest  and  hurried  sentence  to  Faith.  And 
Faith,  too,  was  standing,  standing  and  swaying  with  inde 
cision,  and  gazing  away  out  before  her,  —  so  flushed  and 
so  beautiful,  —  so  loath  and  so  willing.  Poor  thing ! 
poor  thing  !  as  if  her  rising  in  itself  were  not  the  whole ! 

Mr.  Gabriel  stepped  across  the  boat,  stooped  a  minute, 
and  then  also  took  an  oar.  How  perfect  he  was,  as  he 
stood  there  that  moment !  —  perfect  like  a  statue,  I  mean, 
—  so  slender,  so  clean-limbed,  his  dark  face  pale  to  trans 
parency  in  the  green  light  that  filtered  through  the  draw ! 
and  then  a  ray  from  the  sunset  came  creeping  over  the 
edge  of  the  high  fields  and  smote  his  eyes  sidelong  so 
that  they  glowed  like  jewels,  and  he  with  his  oar  planted 
firmly  hung  there  bending  far  back  with  it,  completely 
full  of  strength  and  grace. 

"  It  is  not  the  bateaux  in  the  rapids,"  said  he. 

"  What  are  you  about  ? "  asked  Dan,  with  sudden 
hoarseness.  "  You  are  pulling  the  wrong  way !  " 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  411 

Mr.  Gabriel  laughed,  and  threw  down  his  oar,  and 
stepped  back  again  ;  gave  his  hand  to  Faith,  and  half  led, 
half  lifted  her,  over  the  side,  and  into  the  Speed,  followed, 
and  never  looked  behind  him.  They  let  go  something 
they  had  held,  the  Speed  put  her  nose  in  the  water  and 
sprinkled  us  with  spray,  plunged,  and  dashed  off  like  an 
arrow. 

It  was  like  him,  —  daring  and  insolent  coolness  !  Just 
like  him  !  Always  the  soul  of  defiance  !  None  but  one 
so  reckless  and  impetuous  as  he  would  have  dreamed  of 
flying  into  the  teeth  of  the  tempest  in  that  shell  of  a 
schooner.  But  he  was  mad  with  love,  and  they  —  there 
was  n't  a  man  among  them  but  was  the  worse  for  liquor. 

For  a  moment  Dan  took  it,  as  Mr.  Gabriel  had  expect 
ed  him  to  do,  as  a  joke,  and  went  to  trim  the  boat  for 
racing,  not  meaning  they  should  reach  town  first.  But  I 
—  I  saw  it  all. 

"  Dan  !  "  I  sung  out,  "  save  her  !  She  's  not  coming 
back  !  They  '11  make  for  the  schooner  at  Black  Rocks  ! 
Oh,  Dan,  he  's  taken  her  off!  " 

Now  one  whose  intelligence  has  never  been  trained, 
who  shells  his  five  wits  and  gets  rid  of  the  pods  as  best 
he  can,  may  n't  be  so  quick  as  another,  but,  like  an  ani 
mal,  he  feels  long  before  he  sees  ;  and  a  vague  sense  of 
this  had  been  upon  Dan  all  day.  Yet  now  he  stood 
thunderstruck;  and  the  thing  went  on  before  his  very 
eyes.  It  was  more  than  he  could  believe  at  once,  —  and 
perhaps  his  first  feeling  was,  Why  should  he  hinder? 
And  then  the  flood  fell.  No  thought  of  his  loss,  —  though 
loss  it  wa'n't,  —  only  of  his  friend,  —  of  such  stunning 
treachery,  that,  if  the  sun  fell  hissing  into  the  sea  at  noon, 
it  would  have  mattered  less,  —  only  of  that  loss  that  tore 
his  heart  out  with  it. 


412  THE  SOUTH  BEEAKER. 

"  Gabriel ! "  lie  shouted,  —  "  Gabriel !  "  And  his  voice 
was  heart-rending.  I  know  that  Mr.  Gabriel  felt  it,  for 
he  never  turned  nor  stirred. 

Then  I  don't  know  what  came  over  Dan  :  a  blind  rage 
swelling  in  his  heart  seemed  to  make  him  larger  in  every 
limb ;  he  towered  like  a  flame.  He  sprang  to  the  tiller, 
but,  as  he  did  so,  saw  with  one  flash  of  his  eye  that  Mr. 
Gabriel  had  unshipped  the  rudder  and  thrown  it  away. 
He  seized  an  oar  to  steer  with  in  its  place ;  he  saw  that 
they,  in  their  ignorance  fast  edging  on  the  flats,  would 
shortly  be  aground  ;  more  fisherman  than  sailor,  he  knew 
a  thousand  tricks  of  boat-craft  that  they  had  never  heard 
of.  We  flew,  we  flew  through  cloven  ridges,  we  became 
a  wind  ourselves,  and  while  I  tell  it  he  was  beside  them, 
had  gathered  himself  as  if  to  leap  the  chasm  between  time 
and  eternity,  and  had  landed  among  them  in  the  Speed. 
The  wherry  careened  with  the  shock  and  the  water  poured 
into  her,  and  she  flung  headlong  and  away  as  his  foot 
spurned  her.  Heaven  knows  why  she  did  n't  upset,  for  I 
thought  of  nothing  but  the  scene  before  me  as  I  drifted 
off  from  it.  I  shut  the  eyes  in  my  soul  now,  that  I 
may  n't  see  that  horrid  scuffle  twice.  Mr.  Gabriel,  he 
rose,  he  turned.  If  Dan  was  the  giant  beside  him,  he 
himself  was  so  well-knit,  so  supple,  so  adroit,  that  his 
power  was  like  the  blade  in  the  hand.  Dan's  strength 
was  lying  round  loose,  but  Mr.  Gabriel's  was  trained,  it 
hid  like  springs  of  steel  between  brain  and  wrist,  and 
from  him  the  clap  fell  with  the  bolt.  And  then,  besides, 
Dan  did  not  love  Faith,  and  he  did  love  Gabriel.  Any 
one  could  see  how  it  would  go.  I  screamed.  I  cried, 
"  Faith  !  Faith !  "  And  some  natural  instinct  stirred  in 
Faith's  heart,  for  she  clung  to  Mr.  Gabriel's  arm  to  pull 
him  off  from  Dan.  But  he  shook  her  away  like  rain. 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  413 

Then  such  a  mortal  weakness  took  possession  of  me  that 
I  saw  everything  black,  and  when  it  was  clean  gone,  I 
looked,  and  they  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  fierce, 
fierce  and  fell,  a  death-grip.  They  were  staggering  to 
the  boat's  edge :  only  this  I  saw,  that  Mr.  Gabriel  was 
inside :  suddenly  the  helmsman  interposed  with  an  oar, 
and  broke  their  grasps.  Mr.  Gabriel  reeled  away,  free, 
for  a  second ;  then,  the  passion,  the  fury,  the  hate  in  his 
heart  feeding  his  strength  as  youth  fed  the  locks  of  Sam 
son,  he  darted,  and  lifted  Dan  in  his  two  arms  and  threw 
him  like  a  stone  into  the  water.  Stiffened  to  ice,  I  waited 
for  Dan  to  rise  ;  the  other  craft,  the  Follow,  skimmed 
between  us,  and  one  man  managing  her  that  she  should  n't 
heel,  the  rest  drew  Dan  in,  —  it 's  not  the  depth  of  two 
foot  there,  —  tacked  about,  and  after  a  minute  came  along 
side,  seized  our  painter,  and  dropped  him  gently  into  his 
own  boat.  Then  —  for  the  Speed  had  got  afloat  again  — 
the  thing  stretched  her  two  sails  wing  and  wing,  and  went 
ploughing  up  a  great  furrow  of  foam  before  her. 

I  sprang  to  Dan.  He  was  not  senseless,  but  in  a  kind 
of  stupor :  his  head  had  struck  the  fluke  of  a  half-sunk 
anchor  and  it  had  stunned  him,  but  as  the  wound  bled  he 
recovered  slowly  and  opened  his  eyes.  Ah,  what  misery 
was  in  them  !  I  turned  to  the  fugitives.  They  were  yet 
in  sight,  Mr.  Gabriel  sitting  and  seeming  to  adjure  Faith, 
whose  skirts  he  held ;  but  she  stood,  and  her  arms  were 
outstretched,  and,  pale  as  a  foam-wreath  her  face,  and 
piercing  as  a  night-wind  her  voice,  I  heard  her  cry,  "  Oh, 
Georgie !  Georgie ! "  It  was  too  late  for  her  to  cry  or  to 
wring  her  hands  now.  She  should  have  thought  of  that 
before.  But  Mr.  Gabriel  rose  and  drew  her  down,  and 
hid  her  face  in  his  arms  and  bent  over  it ;  and  so  they 
fled  up  the  basin  and  round  the  long  line  of  sand,  and  out 
into  the  gloom  and  the  curdling  mists. 


414  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

I  bound  up  Dan's  head.  I  could  n't  steer  with  an  oar, 
—  that  was  out  of  the  question,  —  but,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  could  row  tolerably ;  so  I  got  down  the  little  mast,  and 
at  length  reached  the  wharves.  The  town-lights  flickered 
up  in  the  darkness  and  flickered  back  from  the  black  rush 
ing  river,  and  then  out  blazed  the  great  mills ;  and  as  I 
felt  along,  I  remembered  times  when  we  'd  put  in  by  the 
tender  sunset,  as  the  rose  faded  out  of  the  water  and  the 
orange  ebbed  down  the  west,  and  one  by  one  the  sweet 
evening-bells  chimed  forth,  so  clear  and  high,  and  each 
with  a  different  tone,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  stars  must 
flock,  tinkling,  into  the  sky.  And  here  were  the  bells 
ringing  out  again,  ringing  out  of  the  gray  and  the  gloom, 
dull  and  brazen,  as  if  they  rang  from  some  cavern  of 
shadows,  or  from  the  mouth  of  hell,  —  but  no,  that  was 
down  river !  Well,  I  made  my  way,  and  the  men  on  the 
landing  took  up  Dan,  and  helped  him  in  and  got  him  on 
my  little  bed,  and  no  sooner  there  than  the  heavy  sleep 
with  which  he  had  struggled  fell  on  him  like  lead. 

The  story  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  the  region  rang 
with  it ;  nobody  had  any  need  to  add  to  it,  or  to  make  it 
out  a  griffin  or  a  dragon  that  had  gripped  Faith  and  car 
ried  her  off  in  his  talons.  But  everybody  declared  that 
those  boats  could  be  no  ship's  yawls  at  all,  but  must 
belong  to  parties  from  up  river  camping  out  on  the  beach, 
and  that  a  parcel  of  such  must  have  gone  sailing  with 
some  of  the  hands  of  a  sand-droger  :  there  was  one  in  the 
stream  now,  that  had  got  off  with  the  tide,  said  the  Jerdan 
boys  who  'd  been  down  there  that  afternoon,  though  there 
was  no  such  name  as  "  Flyaway  "  on  her  stern,  and  they 
were  waiting  for  the  master  of  her,  who  'd  gone  off  on  a 
spree,  —  a  dare:devil  fellow,  that  used  to  .run  a  smuggler 
between  Bordeaux  and  Bristol,  as  they  'd  heard  say :  and 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  415 

all  agreed  that  Mr.  Gabriel  could  never  have  had  to  do 
with  them  before  that  day,  or  he  'd  have  known  what  a 
place  a  sand-droger  would  be  for  a  woman ;  and  every 
body  made  excuses  for  Gabriel,  and  everybody  was  down 
on  Faith.  So  there  things  lay.  It  was  raw  and  chill 
when  the  last  neighbor  left  us,  the  sky  was  black  as  a 
cloak,  not  a  star  to  be  seen,  the  wind  had  edged  back  to 
the  east  again  and  came  in  wet  and  wild  from  the  sea  and 
fringed  with  its  thunder.  Oh,  poor  little  Faith,  what  a 
night !  what  a  night  for  her ! 

I  went  back  and  sat  down  by  Dan,  and  tried  to  keep 
his  head  cool.  Father  was  up  walking  the  kitchen-floor 
till  late,  but  at  length  he  lay  down  across  the  foot  of 
mother's  bed,  as  if  expecting  to  be  called.  The  lights 
were  put  out,  there  was  no  noise  in  the  town,  every  one 
slept,  —  every  one,  except  they  watched  like  me,  on  that 
terrible  night.  No  noise  in  the  town,  did  I  say  ?  Ah, 
but  there  was !  It  came  creeping  round  the  corners,  it 
poured  rushing  up  the  street,  it  rose  from  everywhere,  — 
a  voice,  a  voice  of  woe,  the  heavy  booming  rote  of  the 
sea.  I  looked  out,  but  it  was  pitch-dark,  light  had  for 
saken  the  world,  we  were  beleaguered  by  blackness.  It 
grew  colder,  as  if  one  felt  a  fog  fall,  and  the  wind,  mount 
ing  slowly,  now  blew  a  gale.  It  eddied  in  clouds  of  dead 
and  whirling  leaves,  and  sent  big  torn  branches  flying 
aloft ;  it  took  the  house  by  the  four  corners  and  shook  it 
to  loosening  the  rafters,  and  I  felt  the  chair  rock  under 
me  ;  it  rumbled  down  the  chimney  as  if  it  would  tear  the 
life  out  of  us.  And  with  every  fresh  gust  of  the  gale  the 
rain  slapped  against  the  wall,  the  rain  that  fell  in  rivers, 
and  went  before  the  wind  in  sheets,  —  and  sheltered  as  I 
was,  the  torrents  seemed  to  pour  over  me  like  cataracts, 
and  every  drop  pierced  me  like  a  needle,  and  I  put  my 


416  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

fingers  in  my  ears  to  shut  out  the  howl  of  the  wind  and 
the  waves.  I  could  n't  keep  my  thoughts  away  from 
Faith.  Oh,  poor  girl,  this  was  n't  what  she  'd  expected  ! 
As  plainly  as  if  I  were  aboard-ship  I  felt  the  scene,  the 
hurrying  feet,  the  slippery  deck,  the  hoarse  cries,  the 
creaking  cordage,  the  heaving  and  plunging  and  strain 
ing,  and  the  wide  wild  night.  And  I  was  beating  off  those 
dreadful  lines  with  them,  two  dreadful  lines  of  white  froth 
through  the  blackness,  two  lines  where  the  horns  of 
breakers  guard  the  harbor,  —  all  night  long  beating  off 
the  lee  with  them,  my  life  in  my  teeth,  and  chill,  blank, 
shivering  horror  before  me.  My  whole  soul,  my  whole 
being,  was  fixed  in  that  one  spot,  that  little  vessel  driving 
on  the  rocks :  it  seemed  as  if  a  madness  took  possession 
of  me,  I  reeled  as  I  walked,  I  forefelt  the  shivering  shock, 
I  waited  till  she  should  strike.  And  then  I  thought  I 
heard  cries,  and  I  ran  out  in  the  storm,  and  down  upon 
the  causey,  but  nothing  met  me  but  the  hollow  night  and 
the  roaring  sea  and  the  wind.  I  came  back,  and  hurried 
up  and  down  and  wrung  my  hands  in  an  agony.  Pictures 
of  summer  nights  flashed  upon  me  and  faded,  —  where 
out  of  deep  blue  vaults  the  stars  hung  like  lamps,  great 
and  golden,  —  or  where  soft  films  just  hazing  heaven 
caught  the  rays  till  all  above  gleamed  like  gauze  faintly 
powdered  and  spangled  with  silver,  —  or  heavy  with 
heat,  slipping  over  silent  waters,  through  scented  airs, 
under  purple  skies.  And  then  storms  rolled  in  and  rose 
before  my  eyes,  distinct  for  a  moment,  and  breaking,  — 
such  as  I  'd  seen  them  from  the  Shoals  in  broad  daylight, 
when  tempestuous  columns  scooped  themselves  up  from 
the  green  gulfs  and  shattered  in  foam  on  the  shuddering 
rock,  —  ah !  but  that  was  day,  and  this  was  midnight  and 
murk  !  —  storms  as  I  'd  heard  tell  of  them  off  Cape  Race, 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  417 

when  great  steamers  went  down  with  but  one  cry,  and  the 
waters  crowded  them  out  of  sight,  —  storms  where,  out  of 
the  wilderness  of  waves  that  far  and  wide  wasted  white 
around,  a  single  one  came  ploughing  on  straight  to  the 
mark,  gathering  its  grinding  masses  mast-high,  poising, 
plunging,  and  swamping  and  crashing  them  into  bottom 
less  pits  of  destruction,  —  storms  where  waves  toss  and 
breakers  gore,  where,  hanging  on  crests  that  slip  from 
under,  reefs  impale  the  hull,  and  drowning  wretches  cling 
to  the  crags  with  stiffening  hands,  and  the  sleet  ices  them, 
and  the  spray,  and  the  sea  lashes  and  beats  them  with 
great  strokes  and  sucks  them  down  to  death :  and  right  in 
the  midst  of  it  all  there  burst  a  gun,  —  one,  another,  and 
no  more.  "  Oh,  Faith !  Faith ! "  I  cried  again,  and  I  ran 
and  hid  my  head  in  the  bed. 

How  long  did  I  stay  so  ?  An  hour,  or  maybe  two. 
Dan  was  still  dead  with  sleep,  but  mother  had  no  more 
closed  an  eye  than  I.  There  was  no  rain  now,  the  wind 
had  fallen,  the  dark  had  lifted ;  I  looked  out  once  more, 
and  could  just  see  dimly  the  great  waters  swinging  in  the 
river  from  bank  to  bank.  I  drew  the  bucket  fresh,  and 
bound  the  cloths  cold  on  Dan's  head  again.  I  had  n't  a 
thought  in  my  brain,  and  I  fell  to  counting  the  meshes  in 
the  net  that  hung  from  the  wall,  but  in  my  ears  there  was 
the  everlasting  rustle  of  the  sea  and  shore.  It  grew 
clearer,  —  it  got  to  being  a  universal  gray  ;  there  'd  been 
no  sunrise,  but  it  was  day.  Dan  stirred,  —  he  turned 
over  heavily ;  then  he  opened  his  eyes  wide  and  looked 
about  him. 

"  I  've  had  such  a  fright ! "  he  said.  "  Georgie !  is  that 
you?" 

With  that  it  swept  over  him  afresh,  and  he  fell  back. 
In  a  moment  or  two  he  tried  to  rise,  but  he  was  weak  as 

18*  AA 


418  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

a  child.  He  contrived  to  keep  on  his  elbow  a  moment, 
though,  and  to  give  a  look  out  of  the  window. 

"  It  came  on  to  blow,  did  n't  it  ?  "  he  asked  ;  but  there 
he  sank  down  again. 

"  I  can't  stay  so  !  "  he  murmured  soon.  "  I  can't  stay 
so  !  Here,  —  I  must  tell  you.  Georgie,  get  out  the  spy 
glass,  and  go  up  on  the  roof  and  look  over.  I  've  had  a 
dream,  I  tell  you  !  I  've  had  a  dream.  Not  that  either, 
—  but  it 's  just  stamped  on  me  !  It  was  like  a  storm,  — 
and  I  dreamed  that  that  schooner  —  the  Flyaway  —  had 
parted.  And  the  half  of  her  's  crashed  down  just  as  she 
broke,  and  Faith  and  that  man  are  high  up  on  the  bows 
in  the  middle  of  the  South  Breaker  !  Make  haste,  Geor 
gia  !  Christ !  make  haste  !  " 

I  flew  to  the  drawers  and  opened  them,  and  began 
to  put  the  spy-glass  together.  Suddenly  he  cried  out 
again,  — 

"  Oh,  here  's  where  the  fault  was  !  What  right  had  I 
ever  to  marry  the  child,  not  loving  her  ?  I  bound  her ! 
I  crushed  her  !  I  stifled  her  !  If  she  lives,  it  is  my  sin  ; 
if  she  dies,  I  murder  her  !  " 

He  hid  his  face,  as  he  spoke,  so  that  his  voice  came 
thick,  and  great  choking  groans  rent  their  way  up  from 
his  heart. 

All  at  once,  as  I  looked  up,  there  stood  mother,  in  her 
long  white  gown,  beside  the  bed,  and  bending  over  and 
taking  Dan's  hot  head  in  her  two  hands. 

"  Behold,  He  cometh  with  clouds ! "  she  whispered. 

It  always  did  seem  to  me  as  if  mother  had  the  imposi 
tion  of  hands, —  perhaps  every  one  feels  just  so  about  their 
mother,  —  but  only  her  touch  always  lightens  an  ache  for 
me,  whether  it 's  in  the  heart  or  the  head. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Khody,"  said  Dan,  looking  up  in  her  face 
with  his  distracted  eyes,  "  can't  you  help  me  ?  " 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  419 

"  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence 
cometh  my  help,"  said  mother. 

"  There  's  no  help  there  ! "  called  Dan.  "  There  's  no 
God  there  !  He  would  n't  have  let  a  little  child  run  into 
her  damnation ! " 

"  Hush,  hush,  Dan  !  "  murmured  mother.  "  Faith 
never  can  have  been  at  sea  in  such  a  night  as  this,  and 
not  have  felt  God's  hand  snatching  her  out  of  sin.  If  she 
lives,  she  's  a  changed  woman  ;  and  if  she  dies,  her  soul  is 
whitened  and  fit  to  walk  with  saints.  Through  much 
tribulation." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  muttered  father,  in  the  room  beyond,  spit 
ting  on  his  hands,  as  if  he  were  going  to  take  hold  of  the 
truth  by  the  handle,  —  "  it 's  best  to  clean  up  a  thing  with 
the  first  spot,  and  not  wait  for  it  to  get  all  rusty  with 
crime." 

"And  he!"  said  Dan,  —  "  and  he,  —  that  man, — 
Gabriel!" 

"  Between  the  saddle  and  the  ground 
If  mercy  's  asked,  mercy 's  found," 

said  I. 

"  Are  you  there  yet,  Georgia  ? "  he  cried,  turning  to 
me.  -"Here!  I'll  go  myself!"  But  he  only  stumbled 
and  fell  on  the  bed  again. 

"  In  all  the  terror  and  the  tempest  of  these  long  hours, 
—  for  there 's  been  a  fearful  storm,  though  you  have  n't 
felt  it,"  said  mother,  —  "  in  all  that,  Mr.  Gabriel  can't 
have  islept.  But  at  first  it  must  have  been  that  great 
dread  appalled  him,  and  he  may  have  been  beset  with 
sorrow.  He  'd  brought  her  to  this.  But  at  last,  for  he  's 
no  coward,  he  has  looked  death  in  the  face  and  not 
flinched ;  and  the  danger,  and  the  grandeur  there  is  in 
despair,  have  lifted  his  spirit  to  great  heights,  —  heights 


420  THE  SOUTH  BBEAKER. 

found  now  in  an  hour,  but  which  in  a  whole  life  long  he 
never  would  have  gained,  —  heights  from  which  he  has 
seen  the  light  of  God's  face  and  been  transfigured  in  it,  — 
heights  where  the  soul  dilates  to  a  stature  it  can  never 
lose.  Oh,  Dan,  there 's  a  moment,  a  moment  when  the 
dross  strikes  off,  and  the  impurities,  and  the  grain  sets, 
and  there  comes  out  the  great  white  diamond.  For  by 
grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith,  and  that  not  of  your 
selves,  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  —  of  Him  that  maketh  the 
seven  stars  and  Orion,  and  turneth  the  shadow  of  death 
into  the  morning.  Oh,  I  will  believe  that  Mr.  Gabriel 
had  n't  any  need  to  grope  as  we  do,  but  that  suddenly  he 
saw  the  Heavenly  Arm  and  clung  to  it,  and  the  grasp 
closed  round  him,  and  death  and  hell  can  have  no  power 
over  him  now.  Dan,  poor  boy,  is  it  better  to  lie  in  the 
earth  with  the  ore  than  to  be  forged  in  the  furnace  and 
beaten  to  a  blade  fit  for  the  hands  of  archangels  ?  " 

And  mother  stopped,  trembling  like  a  leaf. 

I  'd  been  wiping  and  screwing  the  glass,  and  I  'd  waited 
a  breath,  for  mother  always  talked  so  like  a  preacher ; 
but  when  she  'd  finished,  after  a  second  or  two  Dan  looked 
up,  and  said,  as  if  he  'd  just  come  in,  — 

"  Aunt  Rhody,  how  come  you  out  of  bed  ?  " 

And  then  mother,  she  got  upon  the  bed,  and  she  took 
Dan's  head  on  her  breast  and  fell  to  stroking  his  brows, 
laying  her  cool  palms  on  his  temples  and  on  his  eyelids, 
as  once  I  'd  have  given  my  ears  to  do,  — and  I  slipped  out 
of  the  room. 

Oh,  I  hated  to  go  up  those  stairs,  to  mount  that  ladder, 
to  open  the  scuttle  !  And  once  there,  I  waited  and  waited 
before  I  dared  to  look.  The  night  had  unnerved  me. 
At  length  I  fixed  the  glass.  I  swept  the  broad  swollen 
stream,  to  the  yellowing  woods,  and  over  the  meadows, 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  421 

where  a  pale  transient  beam  crept  under  and  pried  up 
the  haycocks,  —  the  smoke  that  began  to  curl  from  the 
chimneys  and  fall  as  soon,  —  the  mists  blowing  off  from 
Indian  Hill,  but  brooding  blue  and  dense  down  the  turn 
pike,  and  burying  the  red  spark  of  the  moon,  that  smoth 
ered  like  a  half-dead  coal  in  her  ashes,  —  anywhere,  any 
where  but  that  spot !  I  don't  know  why  it  was,  but  I 
could  n't  level  the  glass  there,  —  my  arm  would  fall,  my 
eye  haze.  Finally  I  brought  it  round  nearer  and  tried 
again.  Everywhere,  as  far  as  your  eye  could  reach,  the 
sea  was  yeasty  and  white  with  froth,  and  great  streaks  of 
it  were  setting  up  the  inky  river,  and  against  it  there  were 
the  twin  light-houses  quivering  their  little  yellow  rays  as 
if  to  mock  the  dawn,  and  far  out  on  the  edge  of  day  the 
great  light  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals  blinked  and  blinked, 
crimson  and  gold,  fainter  and  fainter,  and  lost  at  last.  It 
was  no  use,  I  did  n't  dare  point  it,  my  hand  trembled  so  I 
could  see  nothing  plain,  when  suddenly  an  engine  went 
thundering  over  the  bridge  and  startled  me  into  stillness. 
The  tube  slung  in  my  hold  and  steadied  against  the  chim 
ney,  and  there  —  What  was  it  in  the  field  ?  what  ghastly 
picture  ? 

The  glass  crashed  from  my  hand,  and  I  staggered 
shrieking  down  the  ladder. 

The  sound  was  n't  well  through  my  lips,  when  the  door 
slammed,  and  Dan  had  darted  out  of  the  house  and  to  the 
shore.  I  after  him.  There  was  a  knot  sitting  and  stand 
ing  round  there  in  the  gray,  shivering,  with  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  and  their  pipes  set  in  their  teeth  ;  but 
the  gloom  was  on  them  as  well,  and  the  pipes  went  out 
between  the  puffs. 

"  Where 's  Dennis's  boat  ? "  Dan  demanded,  as  he 
strode. 


422  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

"  The  six-oar 's  all  the  one  not  —  " 

"  The  six-oar  I  want.     Who  goes  with  me  ?  " 

There  was  n't  a  soul  in  the  ward  but  would  have  fol 
lowed  Dan's  lead  to  the  end  of  the  world  and  jumped  off; 
and  before  I  could  tell  their  names  there  were  three  men 
on  the  thwarts,  six  oars  in  the  air,  Dan  stood  in  the  bows, 
a  word  from  him,  and  they  shot  away. 

I  watched  while  I  could  see,  and  then  in  and  up  to  the 
attic,  forgetting  to  put  mother  in  her  bed,  forgetting  all 
things  but  the  one.  And  there  lay  the  glass  broken.  I  sat 
awhile  with  the  pieces  in  my  hand,  as  if  I  'd  lost  a  king 
dom  ;  then  down,  and  mechanically  put  things  to  rights, 
and  made  mother  comfortable,  —  and  she 's  never  stood  on 
her  feet  from  that  day  to  this.  At  last  I  seated  myself 
before  the  fire,  and  stared  into  it  to  blinding. 

"  Won't  some  one  lend  you  a  glass,  Georgie  ? "  said 
mother. 

"  Of  course  they  will ! "  I  cried,  —  for,  you  see,  I  had  n't 
a  wit  of  my  own,  —  and  I  ran  out. 

There 's  a  glass  behind  every  door  in  the  street,  you 
should  know,  and  there  's  no  day  in  the  year  that  you  '11 
go  by  and  not  see  one  stretching  from  some  roof  where 
the  heart  of  the  house  is  out  on  the  sea.  Oh,  sometimes 
I  think  all  the  romance  of  the  town  is  clustered  down  here 
on  the  Flats  and  written  in  pale  cheeks  and  starting  eyes. 
But  what 's  the  use  ?  After  one  winter,  one,  I  gave  mine 
away,  and  never  got  another.  It 's  just  an  emblem  of 
despair.  Look,,  and  look  again,  and  look  till  your  soul 
sinks,  and  the  thing  you  want  never  crosses  it ;  but  you  're 
down  in  the  kitchen  stirring  a  porridge,  or  you  're  off  at  a 
neighbor's  asking  the  news,  and  somebody  shouts  at  you 
round  the  corner,  and  there,  black  and  dirty  and  dearer 
than  gold,  she  lies  between  the  piers. 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  423 

All  the  world  was  up  on  their  house-tops  spying,  that 
morning,  but  there  was  nobody  would  keep  their  glass 
while  I  had  none  ;  so  I  went  back  armed,  and  part  of  it 
all  I  saw,  and  part  of  it  father  told  me. 

I  waited  till  I  thought  they  were  'most  across,  and  then 
I  rubbed  the  lens.  At  first  I  saw  nothing,  and  I  began 
to  quake  with  a  greater  fear  than  any  that  had  yet  taken 
root  in  me.  But  with  the  next  moment  there  they  were, 
pulling  close  up.  I  shut  my  eyes  for  a  flash  with  some 
kind  of  a  prayer  that  was  most  like  an  imprecation,  and 
when  I  looked  again  they  had  dashed  over  and  dashed 
over,  taking  the  rise  of  the  long  roll,  and  were  in  the 
midst  of  the  South  Breaker.  O  God  !  that  terrible  South 
Breaker  !  The  oars  bent  lithe  as  willow-switches,  a  mo 
ment  they  skimmed  on  the  caps,  a  moment  were  hid  in 
the  snow  of  the  spray.  Dan,  red-shirted,  still  stood  there, 
his  whole  soul  on  the  aim  before  him,  like  that  of  some 
leaper  flying  through  the  air ;  he  swayed  to  the  stroke, 
he  bowed,  he  rose,  perfectly  balanced,  and  flexile  as  the 
wave.  The  boat  behaved  beneath  their  hands  like  a  live 
creature :  she  bounded  so  that  you  almost  saw  the  light 
under  her ;  her  whole  stem  lifted  itself  slowly  out  of  the 
water,  caught  the  back  of  a  roller  and  rode  over  upon  the 
next ;  the  very  things  that  came  rushing  in  with  their 
white  rage  to  devour  her  bent  their  necks  and  bore  her 
up  like  a  bubble.  Constantly  she  drew  nearer  that  dark 
and  shattered  heap  up  to  which  the  fierce  surf  raced,  and 
over  which  it  leaped.  And  there  all  the  time,  all  the 
time,  they  had  been  clinging,  far  out  on  the  bowsprit, 
those  two  figures,  her  arms  close-knit  about  him,  he  clasp 
ing  her  with  one,  the  other  twisted  in  the  hawser  whose 
harsh  thrilling  must  have  filled  their  ears  like  an  organ- 
note  as  it  swung  them  to  and  fro,  —  clinging  to  life,  — 


424  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

clinging  to  each  other  more  than  to  life.  The  wreck 
scarcely  heaved  with  the  stoutest  blow  of  the  tremendous 
surge  ;  here  and  there,  only,  a  plank  shivered  off  and  was 
bowled  on  and  thrown  high  upon  the  beach  beside  frag 
ments  of  beams  broken  and  bruised  to  a  powder ;  it 
seemed  to  be  as  firmly  planted  there  as  the  breaker  itself. 
Great  feathers  of  foam  flew  across  it,  great  waves  shook 
themselves  thin  around  it  and  veiled  it  in  shrouds,  and 
with  their  every  breath  the  smothering  sheets  dashed  over 
them,  —  the  two.  And  constantly  the  boat  drew  nearer, 
as  I  said ;  they  were  almost  within  hail ;  Dan  saw  her 
hair  streaming  on  the  wind  ;  he  waited  only  for  the  long 
wave.  On  it  came,  that  long  wave,  —  oh !  I  can  see  it 
now  !  —  plunging  and  rearing  and  swelling,  a  monstrous 
billow,  sweeping  and  swooping  and  rocking  in.  Its  hol 
lows  gaped  with  slippery  darkness,  it  towered  and  sent 
the  scuds  before  its  trembling  crest,  breaking  with  a 
mighty  rainbow  as  the  sun  burst  forth,  it  fell  in  a  white 
blindness  everywhere,  rushed  seething  up  the  sand,  —  and 
the  bowsprit  was  bare  !  — 

When  father  came  home,  the  rack  had  driven  down  the 
harbor  and  left  clear  sky  ;  it  was  near  nightfall ;  they  'd 
been  searching  the  shore  all  day,  —  to  no  purpose.  But 
that  rainbow,  —  I  always  took  it  for  a  sign.  Father  was 
worn  out,  yet  he  sat  in  the  chimney-side,  cutting  off  great 
quids  and  chewing  and  thinking  and  sighing.  At  last  he 
went  and  wound  up  the  clock,  —  it  was  the  stroke  of 
twelve,  —  and  then  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  — 

"  Dan  sent  you  this,  Georgie.  He  hailed  a  pilot-boat, 
and  's  gone  to  the  Cape  to  join  the  fall  fleet  to  the  fish- 
'ries.  And  he  sent  you  this." 

It  was  just  a  great  hand-grip  to  make,  your  nails  pur 
ple,  but  there  was  heart's-blood  in  it.  See,  there  's  the 
mark  to-day. 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  425 

So  there  was  Dan  off  in  the  Bay  of  Chaleur.  'T  was 
the  best  place  for  him.  And  I  went  about  my  work  once 
more.  There  was  a  great  gap  in  my  life,  but  I  tried  not 
to  look  at  it.  I  durst  n't  think  of  Dan,  and  I  would  n't 
think  of  them,  —  the  two.  Always  in  such  times  it 's  as 
if  a  breath  had  come  and  blown  across  the  pool  and  you 
could  see  down  its  dark  depths  and  into  the  very  bottom, 
but  time  scums  it  all  over  again.  And  I  tell  you  it 's 
best  to  look  trouble  in  the  face  :  if  you  don't,  you  '11  have 
more  of  it.  So  I  got  a  lot  of  shoes  to  bind,  and  what 
part  of  my  spare  time  I  wa'n't  at  my  books  the  needle 
flew.  But  I  turned  no  more  to  the  past  than  I  could 
help,  and  the  future  trembled  too  much  to  be  seen. 

Well,  the  two  months  dragged  away,  it  got  to  be 
Thanksgiving-week,  and  at  length  the  fleet  was  due.  I 
mind  me  I  made  a  great  baking  that  week ;  and  I  put 
brandy  into  the  mince  for  once,  instead  of  vinegar  and 
dried-apple  juice,  —  and  there  were  the  fowls  stuffed  and 
trussed  on  the  shelf,  —  and  the  pumpkin-pies  like  slices 
of  split  gold,  —  and  the  cranberry-tarts,  plats  of  crimson 
and  puffs  of  snow,  —  and  I  was  brewing  in  my  mind  a 
right-royal  red  Indian-pudding  to  come  out  of  the  oven 
smoking  hot  and  be  soused  with  thick  clots  of  yellow 
cream,  —  when  one  of  the  boys  ran  in  and  told  us  the 
fleet  'd  got  back,  but  no  Dan  with  it,  —  he  'd  changed 
over  to  a  fore-and-after,  and  would  n't  be  home  at  all,  but 
was  to  stay  dow.n  in  the  Georges  all  winter,  and  he  'd 
sent  us'word.  Well,  the  baking  went  to  the  dogs,  or  the 
Thanksgiving  beggars,  which  is  the  same  thing. 

Then  days  went  by,  as  days  will,  and  it  was  well  into 
the  New  Year.  I  used  to  sit  there  at  the  window,  read 
ing,  —  but  the  lines  would  run  together,  and  I  'd  forget 
what 't  was  all  about,  and  gather  no  sense,  and  the  image 


426  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

of  the  little  fore-and-after,  the  "  Feather,"  raked  in  be 
tween  the  leaves,  and  at  last  I  had  to  put  all  that  aside  ; 
and  then  I  sat  stitching,  stitching,  but  got  into  a  sad  habit 
of  looking  up  and  looking  out  each  time  I  drew  the 
thread.  I  felt  it  was  a  shame  of  me  to  be  so  glum,  and 
mother  missed  my  voice  ;  but  I  could  no  more  talk  than 
I  could  have  given  conundrums  to  King  Solomon,  and  as 

for  singing Oh,  I  used  to  long  so  for  just  a  word 

from  Dan ! 

We  'd  had  dry  fine  weeks  all  along,  and  father  said 
he  'd  known  we  should  have  just  such  a  season,  because 
the  goose's  breast-bone  was  so  white  ;  but  St.  Valentine's 
day  the  weather  broke,  broke  in  a  chain  of  storms  that 
the  September  gale  was  a  whisper  to.  Ah,  it  was  a 
dreadful  winter,  that!  You've  surely  heard  of  it.  It 
made  forty  widows  in  one  town.  Of  the  dead  that  were 
found  on  Prince  Edward's  Island's  shores  there  were 
four  corpses  in  the  next  house  yonder,  and  two  in  the  one 
behind.  And  what  waiting  and  watching  and  cruel  pangs 
of  suspense  for  them  that  could  n't  have  even  the  peace 
of  certainty !  And  I  was  one  of  those. 

The  days  crept  on,  I  say,  and  got  bright  again ;  no 
June  days  ever  stretched  themselves  to  half  such  length  ; 
there  was  perfect  stillness  in  the  house,  —  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  counted  every  tick  of  the  clock.  In  the  even 
ings  the  neighbors  used  to  drop  in  and  sit  mumbling  over 
their  fearful  memories  till  the  flesh  crawled  on  my  bones. 
Father,  then,  he  wanted  cheer,  and  he  'd  get  me  to  sing 
ing  "  Caller  Herrin'."  Once,  I  'd  sung  the  first  part,  but 
as  I  teached  the  lines,  — 

"  When  ye  were  sleepin'  on  your  pillows, 
Dreamt  ye  aught  o'  our  puir  fellows 
Darklin'  as  they  face  the  billows, 
A'  to  fill  our  woven  willows,"  — 


THE   SOUTH  BREAKER.  427 

as  I  reached  those  lines,  my  voice  trembled  so  's  to  shake 
the  tears  out  of  my  eyes,  and  Jim  Jerdan  took  it  up  him 
self  and  sung  it  through  for  me  to  words  of  his  own 
invention.  He  was  always  a  kindly  fellow,  and  he  knew 
a  little  how  the  land  lay  between  me  and  Dan. 

"  When  I  was  down  in  the  Georges,"  said  Jim  Jer 
dan - 

"  You  ?     When  was  you  down  there  ?  "  asked  father. 

"  Well,  —  once  I  was.     There 's  worse  places." 

"  Can't  tell  me  nothing  about  the  Georges,"  said  father. 
"  'T  a'n't  the  rivers  of  Damascus  exactly,  but 't  a'n't  the 
Marlstrom  neither." 

"  Ever  ben  there,  Cap'n  ?  " 

"  A  few.  Spent  more  nights  under  cover  roundabouts 
than  Georgie  '11  have  white  hairs  in  her  head,  —  for  all 
she  's  washing  the  color  out  of  her  eyes  now." 

You  see,  father  knew  I  set  by  my  hair,  —  for  in  those 
days  I  rolled  it  thick  as  a  cable,  almost  as  long,  black  as 
that  cat's  back,  —  and  he  thought  he  'd  touch  me  up  a 
little. 

a  Wash  the  red  from  her  cheek  and  the  light  from  her 
look,  and  she  '11  still  have  the  queen's  own  tread,"  said 
Jim. 

"  If  Loisy  Currier  'd  heern  that,  you  'd  wish  your  cake 
was  dough,"  says  father. 

"  I  '11  resk  it,"  says  Jim.  "  Loisy  knows  who  's  second 
choice,  as  well  as  if  you  told  her." 

"  Bur  what  about  the  Georges,  Jim  ?  "  I  asked ;  for 
though  I  hated  to  hear,  I  could  listen  to  nothing  else. 

"  Georges  ?    Oh,  not  much.    Just  like  any  other  place." 

"  But  what  do  you  do  down  there  ?  " 

"  Do  ?     Why,  we  fish,  —  in  the  pleasant  weather." 

"  And  when  it 's  not  pleasant  ?  " 


428  THE  SOUTH  BKEAKER. 

"  Oh,  then  we  make  things  taut,  hoist  fores'l,  clap  the 
helium  into  the  lee  becket,  and  go  below  and  amuse  our 
selves." 

"  How  ?  "  I  asked,  as  if  I  had  n't  heard  it  all  a  hundred 
times. 

"  One  way  V  another.  Pipes,  and  mugs,  and  poker, 
if  it  a'n't  too  rough  ;  and  if  it  is,  we  just  bunk  and  snooze 
till  it  gets  smooth." 

"  Why,  Jim,  —  how  do  you  know  when  that  is  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  can  jedge,  — 'f  the  pipe  falls  out  of  your 
pocket  and  don't  light  on  the  ceiling." 

"  And  who  's  on  deck  ?  " 

"  There 's  no  one  on  deck.  There 's  no  danger,  no 
trouble,  no  nothing.  Can't  drive  ashore,  if  you  was  to 
try :  hundred  miles  off,  in  the  first  place.  Hatches  are 
closed,  she  's  light  as  a  cork,  rolls  over  and  over  just  like 
any  other  log  in  the  water,  and  there  can't  a  drop  get 
into  her,  if  she  turns  bottom-side  up." 

"  But  she  never  can  right  herself ! " 
.  "  Can't  she  ?  You  just  try  her.  Why,  I  Ve  known 
'em  to  keel  over  and  rake  bottom  and  bring  up  the  weed 
on  the  topmast.  I  tell  you  now  !  there  was  one  time  we 
knowed  she  'd  turned  a  somerset,  pretty  well.  Why  ? 
Because,  when  it  cleared  and  we  come  up,  there  was  her 
two  masts  broke  short  off ! " 

And  Jim  went  home  thinking  he  'd  given  me  a  night's 
sleep.  But  it  was  cold  comfort ;  the  Georges  seemed  to 
me  a  worse  place  than  the  Hellgate.  And  mother  she 
kept  murmuring,  —  "  He  layeth  the  beams  of  His  cham 
bers  in  the  waters,  His  pavilion  round  about  Him  is  dark 
waters  and  thick  clouds  of  the  skies."  And  I  knew  by 
that  she  thought  it  pretty  bad. 

So  the  days  went  in  cloud  and  wind.     The  owners  of 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKEK.  .      429 

the  Feather  'd  been  looking  for  her  a  month  and  more, 
and  there  were  strange  kind  of  rumors  afloat ;  and  nobody- 
mentioned  Dan's  name,  unless  they  tripped.  I  went  glow 
ering  like  a  wild  thing.  I  knew  I  'd  never  see  Dan  now 
nor  hear  his  voice  again,  but  I  hated  the  Lord  that  had 
done  it,  and  I  made  my  heart  like  the  nether  millstone.  I 
used  to  try  and  get  out  of  folks's  sight ;  and  roaming  about 
the  back-streets  one  day,  as  the  snow  went  off,  I  stumbled 
on  Miss  Catharine.  "  Old  Miss  Catharine  "  everybody 
called  her,  though  she  was  but  a  pauper,  and  had  black 
blood  in  her  veins.  Eighty  years  had  withered  her,  —  a 
little  woman  at  best,  and  now  bent  so  that  her  head  and 
shoulders  hung  forward  and  she  could  n't  lift  them,  and 
she  never  saw  the  sky.  Her  face  to  the  ground  as  no 
beast's  face  is  turned  even,  she  walked  with  a  cane,  and 
fixing  it  every  few  steps  she  would  throw  herself  back, 
and  so  get  a  glimpse  of  her  way  and  go  on.  I  looked 
after  her,  and  for  the  first  tune  in  weeks  my  heart  ached 
for  somebody  beside  myself.  The  next  day  mother  sent 
me  with  a  dish  to  Miss  Catharine's  room,  and  I  went  in 
and  sat  down.  I  did  n't  like  her  at  first ;  she  'd  got  a 
way  of  looking  sidelong  that  gave  her  an  evil  air ;  but 
soon  she  tilted  herself  backward,  and  I  saw  her  face,  — 
such  a  happy  one  ! 

"  What 's  the  matter  of  ye,  honey  ?  "  said  she.  "  D'  ye 
read  your  Bible  ?  " 

Read  my  Bible  ! 

"  Is  that  what  makes  you  happy,  Miss  Catharine  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Well,  I  can't  read  much  myself,  —  I  don't  know  the 
letters,"  says  she  ;  "  but  I  've  got  the  blessed  promises  in 
my  heart." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  read  to  you  ?  " 


430  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

"  No,  not  to-day.     Next  time  you  come,  maybe." 

So  I  sat  awhile  and  listened  to  her  little  humming 
voice,  and  we  fell  to  talking  about  mother's  ailments,  and 
vshe  said  how  fine  it  would  be,  if  we  could  only  afford  to 
take  mother  to  Bethesda. 

"  There 's  no  angel  there  now,"  said  I. 

"  I  know  it,  dear,  —  but  then  —  there  might  be,  you 
know.  At  any  rate,  there  's  always  the  living  waters 
running  to  make  us  whole  :  I  often  think  of  that." 

"  And  what  else  do  you  think  of,  Miss  Catharine  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  "  said  she.  "  Oh,  I  ha'n't  got  no  husband  nor 
no  child  to  think  about  and  hope  for,  and  so  I  think  of 
myself,  and  what  I  should  like,  honey.  And  sometimes 
I  remember  them  varses,  —  here  !  you  read  'em  now,  — 
Luke  xiii.  11." 

So  I  read  :  — 

"  And,  behold,  there  was  a  woman  which  had  a  spirit 
of  infirmity  eighteen  years,  and  was  bowed  together,  and 
could  in  no  wise  lift  up  herself.  And  when  Jesus  saw 
her,  he  called  her  to  him,  and  said  unto  her,  '  Woman, 
thou  art  loosed  from  thine  infirmity.'  And  he  laid  his 
hands  on  her :  and  immediately  she  was  made  straight, 
and  glorified  God." 

"  Ay,  honey,  I  see  that  all  as  if  it  was  me.  And  I 
think,  as  I  'm  setting  here,  What  if  the  latch  should  lift, 
and  the  gracious  stranger  should  come  in,  his  gown 
a-sweepin'  behind  him  and  a-sweet'nin'  the  air,  and  he 
should  look  down  on  me  with  his  heavenly  eyes,  and  he 
should  smile,  and  lay  his  hands  on  my  head,  warm,  —  and 
I  say  to  myself,  '  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy,'  —  and  he  says, 
'  Miss  Catharine,  thou  art  loosed  from  thine  infirmity  ! ' 
And  the  latch  lifts  as  I  think,  and  I  wait,  —  but  it 's  not 
Him." 


THE  SOUTH  BREAKER.  431 

Well,  when  I  went  out  of  that  place  I  was  n't  the 
same  girl  that  had  gone  in.  My  will  gave  way ;  I  came 
home  and  took  up  my  burden  and  was  in  peace.  Still  I 
could  n't  help  my  thoughts,  —  and  they  ran  perpetually 
to  the  sea.  I  had  n't  need  to  go  up  on  the  house-tops, 
for  I  did  n't  shut  my  eyes  but  there  it  stretched  before 
me.  I  stirred  about  the  rooms  and  tried  to  make  them 
glad  once  more  ;  but  I  was  thin  and  blanched  as  if  I  'd 
been  rising  from  a  fever.  Father  said  it  was  the  salt  air 
I  wanted  ;  and  one  day  he  was  going  out  for  frost-fish, 
and  he  took  me  with  him,  and  left  me  and  my  basket  on 
the  sands  while  he  was  away.  It  was  this  side  of  the 
South  Breaker  that  he  put  me  out,  but  I  walked  there  ; 
and  where  the  surf  was  breaking  in  the  light,  I  went  and 
sat  down  and  looked  over  it.  I  could  do  that  now. 

There  was  the  Cape  sparkling  miles  and  miles  across 
the  way,  unconcerned  that  he  whose  firm  foot  had  rung 
last  on  its  flints  should  ring  there  no  more ;  there  was  the 
beautiful  town  lying  large  and  warm  along  the  river ; 
here  gay  craft  went  darting  about  like  gulls,  and  there  up 
the  channel  sped  a  larger  one,  with  all  her  canvas  flash 
ing  in  the  sun,  and  shivering  a  little  spritsail  in  the" 
shadow,  as  she  went ;  and  fawning  in  upon  my  feet  came 
the  foam  from  the  South  Breaker,  that  still  perhaps 
cradled  Faith  and  Gabriel.  But  as  I  looked,  my  eye 
fell,  and  there  came  the  sea-scenes  again,  —  other  scenes 
than  this,  coves  and  corners  of  other  coasts,  sky-girt 
regions  'of  other  waters.  The  air  was  soft,  that  April 
day,  and  I  thought  of  the  summer  calms  ;  and  with  that 
rose  long  sheets  of  stillness,  far  out  from  any  strand, 
purple  beneath  the  noon ;  fields  slipping  close  in-shore, 
emerald-backed  and  scaled  with  sunshine  ;  long  sleepy 
swells  that  hid  the  light  in  their  hollows,  and  came 


432  THE  SOUTH  BREAKER. 

creaming  along  the  cliffs.  And  if  upon  these  broke 
suddenly  a  wild  glimpse  of  some  storm  careering  over 
a  merciless  mid-ocean,  of  a  dear  dead  face  tossing  up  on 
the  surge  and  snatched  back  again  into  the  depths,  of 
mad  wastes  rushing  to  tear  themselves  to  fleece  above 
clear  shallows  and  turbid  sand-bars,  —  they  melted  and 
were  lost  in  peaceful  glimmers  of  the  moon  on  distant 
flying  foam-wreaths,  in  solemn  midnight  tides  chanting  in 
under  hushed  heavens,  in  twilight  stretches  kissing  twi 
light  slopes,  in  rosy  morning  waves  flocking  up  the  sing 
ing  shores.  And  sitting  so,  with  my  lids  still  fallen,  I 
heard  a  quick  step  on  the  beach,  and  a  voice  that  said, 
"  Georgie ! "  And  I  looked,  and  a  figure,  red-shirted, 
towered  beside  me,  and  a  face,  brown  and  bearded  and 
tender,  bent  above  me. 
Oh  !  it  was  Dan ! 


Cambridge  :    Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


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DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


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DEC  13  1997 


CIRCULATION  DEPT. 


N^  486032 

Spofford,  H.E.P. 
The  amber  gods. 


PS2897 
A6 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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